Soldiers of Alpha - a Rick Flag OC
by MjrJaz
Summary: Step into the boots of an elite Special Forces operator Jaz(Trig)Chapman. Experience the highs, lows, and dangers of operating in the most extreme combat situations faced in the military. Her assigned task-aid Colonel Rick Flag guide a network of super villains to keep the world from descending into a chaotic and unstoppable conflict. My take on S.SQUAD, but foremost a Flag romance
1. Chapter 1 The beginning

_This is the story of Alpha Team, eight extraordinary soldiers who sacrificed their normal human lives to serve their country._

 _Follow Major Jasmine Chapman, and the events that lead her to becoming a strong warrior of war, finding out what it's like to feel after living a life of stone._

 _From the desert and urban decay, she comes across events that never happened in her wildest nightmares._

 **AUTHOR NOTES**

This is my first fan fiction (that was shared) so i hope it entertains you.

 **Feel free to leave a review, in fact i welcome it.**

Suicide Squad IS in this story, but is not the main plot. There is much MUCH more, and i hope you can continue to read past the first chapter, which

is a description of the world Jaz enters into, and what is expected of her.

ENJOY! xx

 **CHAPTER 1**

 **INTRODUCTION**

WASHINGTON D.C

 _I really was marked for disaster._

 _I'd escaped time and time again, but it kept coming back for me._

 _Still, this time was so different from the others._

I looked through the scope of the sniper rifle, scanning down the road of the tiny Iraqi town.

Fifty yards away, a woman opened the door of a small house and stepped outside with her child. The rest of the street was deserted.

The local Iraqis had gone inside, most of them scared.

A few curious souls peeked out from behind curtains, waiting.

They could hear the rumble of the approaching American unit.

The Marines were flooding up the road, marching north to liberate the country from Saddam Hussein.

It was my job to protect them.

My platoon had taken over the building earlier in the day, sneaking into position to provide "overwatch"—prevent the enemy from ambushing the Marines as they came through.

It didn't seem like too difficult a task—if anything, I was glad the Marines were on my side.

I'd seen the power of their weapons and I would've hated to have to fight them.

The Iraq army didn't stand a chance.

And, in fact, they appeared to have abandoned the area already. The war had started roughly two weeks before. My platoon, Green Team, helped kick it off during the early morning of March 20.

Our mission was to hit all the Iraqi strongpoints. On our deployment to Iraq, we were split into teams and sent into the dunes, each team with a network of Iraqi military strongpoints, warehouses and barracks alike to be destroyed. Our orders were to sabotage and only kill if that was our last resort. Leave it to 'Uncle Sam' to try and be politically correct even during a war. I had seen what could happen in war, trust me, it wasn't a pretty sight.

Sometimes, the decision to end another human goes down to the simple rule of "kill or be killed". Our mission was a great success as the Iraqi soldiers had already fled their country for fear of being crushed by the US.

Now we were tasked to assist the Marines as they marched north toward Baghdad. I was a SEAL, a Navy commando. SEAL stands for "Sea, Air, Land," and it pretty much describes the wide ranges of places we operate.

In this case, we were far inland, much farther than SEALs traditionally operated, though as the war against terror continued, this would become common. I'd spent nearly a year training and learning how to become a warrior; I was ready for this fight, or at least as ready as anyone can be. The rifle I was holding was a .300 WinMag, a bolt-action, precision sniper weapon that belonged to my unit commander.

He'd been covering the street for a while and needed a break.

He showed a great deal of confidence in me by choosing me to spot him and take the gun. I was still a new girl, a newbie or rookie in the teams. By SEAL standards, I had yet to be fully tested.

I was also not yet trained as a SEAL sniper. I wanted to be one in the worst way, but I had a long way to go. Giving me the rifle that morning was the Colonel's way of testing me to see if I had the right stuff.

We were on the roof of an old rundown building at the edge of a town the Marines were going to pass through.

The wind kicked dirt and papers across the battered road below us. The place smelled like a sewer—the stench of Iraq was one thing I'd never get used to.

"Marines are coming," said the Colonel as the building began to shake. "Keep watching."

I looked through the scope. The only people who were moving were the woman and maybe a child or two nearby. I watched our troops pull up.

Ten young, proud Marines in uniform got out of their vehicles and gathered for a foot patrol. As the Americans organized, the woman took something from beneath her clothes and yanked at it.

She'd set a grenade. I didn't realize it at first. "Looks yellow," I told the Colonel, describing what I saw as he watched himself. "It's yellow, the body—"

"She's got a grenade," said the Colonel. "That's a Chinese grenade."

"Shit. Get the grenade. The Marines—" I hesitated. Someone was trying to get the Marines on the radio, but we couldn't reach them. They were coming down the street, heading toward the woman. "Shoot!" said the Colonel.

I steadied my breath, until I could feel my body stabilize, my trigger finger felt as heavy as lead.

I heard my sniper support with the binoculars give me directions when I was certain I had a clear shot, I pushed my finger against the trigger and released. The bullet leapt out. I shot.

The grenade dropped. I fired again as the grenade blew up.

It was the first time I'd killed anyone while I was on the sniper rifle. And the first time in Iraq—and the only time—I killed anyone other than a male combatant.

Killing someone from far away with a sniper was way different than killing someone with an automatic rifle. People who die from sniper shots never see it coming. They barely have time to register the shock on their faces before their life is yanked from them like a carpet.

A Major General I met once said, "If you hear a sniper bullet coming, the shot wasn't for you".

It was my duty to shoot, and I don't regret it.

The woman was already dead. I was just making sure she didn't take any Marines with her. It was clear that not only did she want to kill them, but she didn't care about anybody else nearby who would have been blown up by the grenade or killed in the firefight.

Children on the street, people in the houses, maybe her child . . . She was too blinded by evil to consider them. She just wanted Americans dead, no matter what.

My shots saved several Americans, whose lives were clearly worth more than that woman's twisted soul. After all, this was what I signed up for and this was what I was paid to do; save American lives anyhow and anywhere possible.

I can stand before God with a clear conscience about doing my job.

But I truly, deeply hated the evil that woman possessed.

I hate it to this day.

Savage, despicable evil. That's what we were fighting in Iraq.

It was as if the people didn't care about their lives as long as they take a few Americans with them.

That's why a lot of people, myself included, called the enemy "savages." There really was no other way to describe what we encountered there.

It was like there was a demon gingering them to die. The more you kill, the more they keep coming. It was an anomaly I could never understand. Even children were involved in this craze to be martyrs.

People ask me all the time, "How many people have you killed?"

My standard response is, "Does the answer make me less, or more, of a SEAL?" The number is not important to me. I only wish I had killed more. Not for bragging rights, but because I believe the world is a better place without savages out there taking American lives.

Everyone I shot in Iraq was trying to harm Americans or Iraqis loyal to the new government. I had a job to do as a SEAL.

I killed the enemy with pleasure —an enemy I saw day in and day out plotting to kill my fellow Americans. I'm haunted by the enemy's successes.

They were few, but even a single American life is one too many lost. I don't worry about what other people think of me. It's one of the things I most admired about my dad growing up. He didn't give a hoot what others thought. He was who he was. It's one of the qualities that has kept me most sane. If you want to know what life as a SEAL is like, you should go get your own Trident: earn our medal, the symbol of who we are.

Go through our training; make the sacrifices, physical and mental. That's the only way you'll know.

Second of all, and more importantly, who cares about my life? I'm no different than anyone else. I happen to have been in some pretty bad-ass situations. People have told me it's interesting. I don't see it.

My boys deserve to be praised more than I do. JSOC (Joint Special Operations Command) credits me with more kills as a female sniper than any other female American service member, past or present. I guess that's true. They go back and forth on what the number is.

One week it's 160, then its way higher, then it's somewhere in between. If you want a number, ask the JSOC officers—you may even get the truth if you catch them on the right day.

People always want a number. Even if the Navy would let me, I'm not going to give one.

I'm not a numbers girl. I don't even think of the people that I have killed in the battle field. After a few days, they all look alike, I am unable to place which face with what body. That was my way, the way of the soldier.

SEALs are silent warriors, and I'm a SEAL down to my soul. Sometimes, the praises threaten to get to my head, I'm human after all. This one time, I thought I was better than I actually was.

I was deep in the forests of Ecuador on a short peacekeeping mission; I had lain still for three days without food, no movement whatsoever except to take a piss once a day. I was covered with leaves in camouflage, so was my sniper support.

I had just a bottle of water to quench my parched throat. I had been crossed by humongous snakes and other crawling animals. I was on edge. We were asked to move in on the insurgents.

I quickly settled in position on top of a tree, my point settled in the opposite tree, every sniper had attached a point or support, another soldier with binoculars who revealed the position of hostiles.

I couldn't wait to kill these guys and get back on my Native American soil; I am that enthusiastic about my country, we should all be. I had to climb a tree to vantage point where I could see the hostiles properly and set up my sniper.

Up on the tree, I could sight these hostiles properly, I felt like I didn't need my point, "It was an excellent shot". I fired successfully and killed the two guards at their gate. I smiled to myself, my point was trying to keep up with me, he was trying to communicate with me but I was too busy killing the enemy.

There was a thatched house which was guarded heavily, I heard something about it on the comms but I wasn't really paying attention. I fired the first shot and it went straight through the thatch and I heard a scream, it was then I realized that they had hostages. My heart leapt into my mouth, I thought I had killed another non-combatant. I quickly stopped dead and listened to my point.

He told me that we were given new orders, "get the hostages out safely". I had committed a blunder in the line of battle. I was lucky to have not killed any hostage.

I've always said that I wasn't the best shot or even the best sniper ever. I'm not denigrating my skills. I certainly worked hard to hone them.

I was blessed with some excellent instructors, who deserve a lot of credit. And my boys—the fellow SEALs and the Marines and the Force Recon who fought with me and helped me do my job—were all a critical part of my success.

But my high total had much to do with the fact that I was in the _shit_ a lot.

In other words, I had more opportunities than most. I served back-to-back deployments from right before the Iraq War kicked off until the time I got scouted for Green Team.

Green Team is a training program for the NSWDG, or Naval Special Warfare Development Group, commonly known as DEVGRU or previously known as SEAL Team 6, the Navy component of the JSOC, Joint Special Operations Command. You must have heard of us on TV, I think the G.I Jane movie or so, the one that had Demi Moore in it. That was a total misrepresentation of the SEALs.

I was lucky enough to be positioned directly in the action. There's another question people ask a lot: "Did it bother you killing so many people in Iraq?"

I tell them, "No." And I mean it. The first time you shoot someone, you get a little nervous before you take the shot. You think, can I really shoot this guy? Is it really okay? But after you kill your enemy, you see its okay. You say, great. You do it again. And again. You do it so the enemy won't kill you or your countrymen. You do it until there's no one left for you to kill. After the first time you pull the trigger, you no longer know hesitation. Every second spent in reconsideration is a countdown to your death. That's what war is.

 **But, every story has a beginning.**

Mine started in North-central Washington DC.

Kowalski and I had waited our whole lives for this moment.

There we stood, in the centre of the Marine Barracks in Washington DC-standing as straight as an arrow and saluting our superiors crisply, expressionless.

Kowalski and I were in the same basic intake, the same barracks, and now, the same graduating class.

He was a West Point graduate, but I started off as a buck private, fresh out of high school.

My mother died in a terror attack when I was eight years old, and my father became a depressed recluse. He wouldn't have cared what happened to me in the force. My older brother Andy enlisted a few years before me, and he was running a tour in Afghanistan. He was a mere Staff Sergeant, in the desert for the last few years.

"Down here, Trig!" called Logan Thibault.

I walked down the line to take my place beside Thibault, mildly curious as to why he was

suddenly so friendly. As I got closer, I saw Kowalski five people back, watching Thibault with the same curiosity.

Thibault was babbling before I was in earshot.

". . . amazing. I mean, it seems like we just met, and now we're graduating together," he gushed. "Can you believe it's over?"

"Yeah, I can," I muttered.

Lieutenant General Blackburn started calling names, one after the other without a long enough pause between; our rows were rushing to catch up.

I watched as Kowalski, suddenly appearing, danced across the stage to take his, a look of deep concentration on his face. I recognized that face, it was his _I mean business_ face.

I had seen that face countless times in training, late nights when we were subjected to the freezing cold of the ocean and the blinding heat of the sun. The same face he had whenever I won him at target practice.

Thibault followed behind, his expression confused.

Only the two of them could carry off the hideous navy blue celebration uniform and still look the way they did.

They stood out from the rest of the SEALs, their muscle and grace otherworldly. I wondered how I'd ever fit into their soldierly farce.

Truth be told, a couple of angels, standing there with wings intact, would be less conspicuous.

I heard LTG (Lieutenant General) Blackburn call my name and I snapped to attention, waiting for the line in front of me to move.

"Congratulations, Miss Chapman," he mumbled to me, shaking one hand, and placing the Trident to the other.

"Thanks," I murmured.

And that was it. an entire year of training, over.

I went to stand next to Kowalski with the assembled graduates.

Thibault was all red around the eyes, and he kept blotting his face with the sleeve of his jacket. It took me a second to understand that he was crying.

Blackburn said something I didn't hear, and everyone around me shouted and whistled.

"Trig!" Thibault blubbered over the sudden roar of conversation. "I can't believe we have done it."

"Finally," I mumbled.

He threw his arms around my shoulders. "You have to promise we won't lose touch."

I hugged him back, feeling a little awkward as I dodged his request. "I'm so glad I know you, Logan. It was a good year."

I was given my Trident-the Navy SEAL badge. Every SEAL got one-it was ours and ours alone.

Although just having graduated from the Green Team, I had joined several ops under the Tier Ones for the experience.

We did it. I looked at the other men, slapping each other's shoulders, and hugging, congratulating each other.

The biggest grins I have seen in months.

He knew their faces so well they were like brothers.

The older guys on this crew, like Kowalski, a Lieutenant with three years in at age twenty-nine, had lived and trained together for years. Some had come up together through basic training, jump school, and Green Team training.

We had travelled the world, to Korea, Thailand, Central America... we knew each other better than most brothers did.

We'd been drunk together, gotten into fights, slept on forest floors, jumped out of airplanes, climbed mountains, shot down foaming rivers with our hearts in our throats, baked and frozen and starved together, passed countless bored hours, teased one another endlessly about girlfriends or lack of same, driven out in the middle of the night from Fort Benning to retrieve each other from some diner or strip club out on Victory Drive after getting drunk and falling asleep or pissing off some barkeep.

Through all those things, we had been training to get a spot on a Tier One team.

It was the first time I was going to belong to a real Tier One team, and I was nervous about it.

The new recruits were selected by the team leaders of one of four top-tier DEVGRU teams- Alpha, or Alpha Dogs as they called themselves, Bravo, Charlie and Echo.

We had chosen teams that we wanted to be a part in, and I had chosen Bravo Team. Purely because I had the most experience with that team, though Alpha would have been the better choice- except their operations were strictly covert and extremely dangerous.

I didn't mind that-it was the commander I didn't like.

His was Colonel Rick Flag- the best of the best. I had run six ops with Alpha Dogs, and I enjoyed it, however, Flag was very hard to work with.

I didn't like him; not because of his strict leadership-no, it was because he was very square, direct, black and white, either you worked for good or you worked for evil. There were ops I wasn't in the position to question- though it seemed it was fit more for superheroes than a bunch of Tier One operators.

The last op, involved us storming an abandoned apartment building, littered with dead police officers who had septagram drawn on their faces. It was one of the few times I was part of a ground team, it felt like I was open. I was used to watching through a scope from high ground. But the terrain in which this op was performed didn't provide such cover. The operation was very fast, we scoped all the floors in the building and we found the woman at the uppermost floor, performing some sort of ritual dance, she was immediately taken away by some strange woman. Colonel Flag's face riddled with disgust. In the end, we captured the target, a small, scared woman who appeared as if she didn't know what she was doing or why she was even there in the first place. The men in the Alpha Team rumoured she was a witch in the body of an archaeologist names June Moone.

Bravo team were mainly based in Turkey. Taking out drug lords and human traffickers, the most evil warlords in the Middle East. It was tough, but it was real.

Their team leader, GQ Edwards, was younger than me by a whole seven months-he was alright to work for. He was a lot easier to get along with, he had a sense of humour and had a brotherly bond with his men. He was Colonel Rick Flag's best friend.

Being a DEVGRU operator was never on my wish list-I was recommended to the training by a senior officer, and so it came to be, Kowalski and I signed up. In fact, we had a bet on each other failing the Green Team training program, so I wasn't sure how our wager would work now.

Going through a year-long training program was required before we could enter the super-elite unit in order to become a Tier One operator. Before our training was even able to start we had to give a list of all the places we have ever had worked, went to school, lived at, and they would question anybody there about us. If anybody we knew said that we wanted to be a SEAL or DEVGRU member, we were kicked from the program. But if we were allowed to continue training then we would have men follow our steps to make sure that we didn't admit to anybody that we were a Tier One member and if we did, we were a security threat that needed to be cut from the team.

In order to get to this position, we had to get past a series of gruelling tests such as being able to run an obstacle course through a jungle that was hours long, being able to shoot four targets with twice with perfection in less than 4 seconds.

These test went on for about a year. We had to enter live fire houses where Close Quarter Battle was taught and there weren't any silhouettes but instead there were actual people that could be mistaken and shot. If we did shoot anybody we would be immediately be kicked from the training. We had to be able to shoot note cards on targets and if we missed a single shot then we would have to buy a pack of beer for the team later on that day.

We were practically shit until we got through Green Team. Then we would be able to join the teams in the team bars and lounges but we had to prove our mettle. We were still the damn new guys and it sucked to be the new guy!

It's sort of like cranking up a fraternity 1000 notches then militarizing it.

If I had a husband, he would probably divorce me and the divorce rate is around 95%.

I wouldn't be able to tell my husband when I had to leave for an operation or where I was going because it could compromise security. I could imagine just leaving my husband and telling him through a phone that I couldn't make it to the party because the base called me in but in reality, I was going to deploy somewhere else around the world.

I would have to live only a few minutes away from the base so I could be called in quick at any time. But I opted to live at the barracks. If I had to travel to certain places as a civilian I would have to use a fake I.D. I would also have to memorize an alibi for this fake personality and nail it every time.

I would most likely accumulate over twenty I.D.'s. I would be clearly separated from any other SOF elements because I had my own secret base that no other SEALs could join. Don't forget JSOC's very own bar. We would have our very own gator cage that is filled from wall to wall with all the gear I could want or even ask for that could stretch from any scope ever created or every gun ever created.

Our platoon's budget would be over the top and everybody in that platoon would be extremely elite to a level not even thinkable by most.

What truly separates DEVGRU from a regular SEAL Team is that DEVGRU Operators are more trained and have fewer rules than regular SEALs. To even get to the ranks of DEVGRU, one must have been a SEAL for at least five years and must undergo a whole different and extensive selection program called Green Team. It involves different concepts of warfare and train operators on more advanced types of combat effectiveness and teamwork.  
DEVGRU operators work on an entirely different code of secrecy. Carrying out operations created by the CIA, DEVGRU works closely with its Army Counterpart _Delta Force_. They have access to a much higher array of weapons and equipment and are even trusted to set foot on highly secret military bases. They are tasked with only the most difficult and dangerous missions.

Kowalski looked more like a Special Forces Operator than I did, and I was jealous. "You're the first woman to make top tier. You'll be fine."

I laughed awkwardly. "They don't look at me that way. Just one of the boys."

Kowalski was my first mate, my right-hand man. He was a comms and tactical expert, having gone undercover with ISIS for a long while, where I was a combat medic and sniper.

"Chapman…"

Reflex reaction. I turned to the sound of my name being called, though it wasn't being called, just mentioned. My eyes locked for a small portion of a second with a pair of wide, jade-green eyes set in a tanned, heart-shaped face.

I knew the face, though I'd never expected him to be staring right at me. I had been foremost in every conversation today. The new DEVGRU operator. Major Jasmine Chapman _. Trig_. I'd corrected everyone who'd used my full name.

I looked away, bored. It took me a second to realize that he had not been the one to say my name.

"Impressive dossier. Set a new distance and accuracy sniper record, MCMAP (Marine Corps Martial Arts Program) 2nd phase, proficient in most military issue weapons, loads of experience in DEVGRU already. No complaints from or against her. If you don't want her, I do." GQ Edwards was the one reading my dossier aloud, standing beside the staring eyes I recognised as Colonel Rick Flag.

GQ's eyes slid toward me, a movement he meant to be stealthy. "She's interested?"

What did they see when they looked at the strange, well-built woman standing among muscular men that were universally avoided?

They knew I was here to join them. They knew what I was here for. We hustle, we grind, and we don't stop until the job is done. It's hard work, its sacrifice. It's going to places most people aren't willing to go.

Bravery lives in all of us, you either rise to the occasion or you run from it.

You can become afraid of fear or you can break free from the chains that bind you. It's their choice, too.

I frowned, just a small change in the set of my mouth. I could easily be frowning out of boredom.

My fingers ran over the trident, as I looked down at it. It meant something else to be a part of an elite Special Forces team. And the last three months of experience was going to determine my career.

"Alpha Team is picking first," Kowalski mumbled, running his hands through his curly black hair anxiously. Kowalski was a Muslim but grew up in Seattle. He was short and thin, too lean to be the weight-lifting macho man you would think was part of a DEVGRU unit. But he was good. What he really wanted, was to be a jet fighter. One year with Alpha Dogs could get him into any Air Force unit he wanted.

Maybe Flag was staring at him, and not me. Dare I check?

Flag was still staring. How bizarre. I'd never expended so much effort to understand someone in all my life.

Colonel Rick Flag approached our group staunchly, his 'out of my way' stride made me hold my breath. _This is it,_ I thought.

I suppose GQ would want me for his team, seeing as Bravo aren't as strict or elegant as Alpha. I wasn't even sure I wanted that team, either. How long would I last in a team like Alpha Dogs?

The Colonel didn't look at me now, but scanned the faces of the men I was standing next to.

Kowalski winked at me.

Flag looked down at his clipboard and then back up at us. "Lieutenant Michael Kowalski," he shouted in monotone.

Kowalski fist bumped Thibault, and nodded to himself with excitement, clearly trying to contain himself.

I gave him an approving smile, before looking back at the Colonel, 99% percent sure I wasn't going to end up in his elite team.

"Major Jasmine Chapman."

That was what froze me where I stood and had my jaw dropping to the floor. "Alpha team?" I croaked in disbelief.

His eyes locked on mine, and I could see that I'd already given too much away. "Welcome to Alpha Dogs." He swiftly turned on his heels and left GQ Edwards to make his selection. The clipboard slammed into GQ's chest with such force, i was surprised he was still standing. GQ grasped it, and stared after Flag as he left the yard.

Kowalski turned to me and whispered. "Til death do us part, Amigo."

I rolled my eyes.

He grinned his one-dimple smile, clearly pleased to have dragged a halfway civil response out of me, and I gave him a reluctant smile back.

But his smile did nothing about the sharp, cutting blades that raked up and down my body.

I had wanted to avoid Alpha team at all cost. I wanted to be somewhere where I wasn't in constant competition with my fellow soldiers. It was normal tradition to drop the least performing member of Alpha team and replace him/her with a new protege recruit. I didn't want to be _that_ soldier, the one that got dropped.

*.*.*.*

My first practice mission with the Alpha Team will forever remain fresh in my memory. Hours after graduation, we were sent into the coasts of Madagascar to rescue some American hostages. There was a black op to be carried out and it was on a strict _need to know basis_. I was enjoying thanksgiving dinner with my friend's family that day, she was a marine. I got summoned to the base and briefed about the mission.

We were flown there in a large jet with our gear, vehicles and all. The gear was to be dropped at a rendezvous point but we had to be dropped 500 feet above ground. The gear was mainly for the purpose of extraction, so we didn't really need it until we had rescued the hostages.

This is what we were trained for, do the impossible. We flew for close to nine hours and arrived the coast of Antsiranama, an extreme point close to the ocean in the Island of Madagascar very early in the morning. There was still a shroud of darkness over the country.

Our parachutes were strapped to our backs as we plunged into the enveloping darkness. The calm of the dark is to be revered. We landed routinely with a light splash in the water, our goggles set on night vision and we moved in on the supposed holding site for the hostages.

Our movements were stealth. Any mistakes would lead to the death of American citizens, God's own people and that would be our fault. We couldn't let that happen. The building was situated by the shoreline, easily accessible from the water. We took our positions and surged forward. I occupied the opposite building with my sniper support to provide over watch. I set up my rifle, adjusted the scope and loaded the weapon. The ground trooped pushed the door open and started the rescue.

The hostage takers didn't know what hit them. I killed the enemy at the upper floors, preventing them from reaching where they kept the hostages. I let loose of the trigger time and time again according to the directions of Kowalski.

Colonel Flag on the ground displayed serious skill as he weaved through the hostiles, killing them as he went through like a hurricane. I was watching him in action with admiration. I watched inside the building as the hostages were being rescued, I cleared the stairwell for my comrades, leaving a trail of hostiles. I was still in action when Kowalski shouted, _man on the roof_! It was a bit too late as the missile launcher released its missile, directly aimed at where I was.


	2. Chapter 2 Breaking it in

As I scrambled to take a position against the north wall, I was surprised to find that all my gear, weapons, and ammo weren't slowing me down. There was a lot of it, and it was bulky and heavy. I carried a big weapon, too, the Heckler&Koch G28 rifle. It was a prestige item, a highly portable sniper rifle that could deal death at seven hundred meters per second. Normally, fully kitted up like that, it felt like gravity had doubled. But I was surprised to find, as I scrambled for a wall, that my arms and legs felt a little numb, but that was it. I figured this was adrenaline, from the excitement and fear, and regarded it with my usual calm detachment.

I heard the explosion of gunfire and the zing and pop of rounds passing close. I had been taught that if you heard that crack it meant the bullet had passed near your head. A zing, which sounded to me like the sound made when you hit a telephone-pole guy wire with a stick, meant the bullet had missed you by a far margin. The shots were answered by a roaring fusillade.

In one of the rear Humvees, I heard the eruption of gunfire and felt my stomach turn. Then I realized most of what I heard were Ranger guns. Any Somali with a weapon faced a crushing wave of American lead, .50 cals on three of the Humvees as they barrelled up the muddy road toward the chaos. Hayes, Perry, Spenser and all those M16s massed on the trucks took out the man on the roof, and anyone else pointing a gun in their direction.

I grabbed a dazed Kowalski by the armour plate and half-dragged him toward the cover fire.

It was so loud that the sound of the guns was just one ongoing explosion. Bullets hit and rocked the Truck, I was surprised I didn't get hit.

Safely inside the heavily armoured truck, we didn't have to wait long for the gunfire to subside.

"Tangos clear!" Hayes yelled in the still silence.

My ears still rang from the resounding bullets, but I climbed out and began to help exfil the hostages.

Flag and several frightened American hostages emerged from the building, striding purposefully towards us.

That was the walk of the invincible.

*.*.*.*

Initiations weren't what I was worried about. For every wrong answer, you owed a box of beer. By the end of the first week at Alpha barracks, Kowalski was at thirty two boxes.

I kept my mouth shut and only owed thirteen. I didn't mind it though- I'd sit down and drink with them, listening to their horror stories, or miserable voicemails from concerned family members.

The team was only eight strong- Colonel Richard Flag Jnr. Commanding Officer, Captain Sam Taylor, Lieutenant Danny Hayes, Captain Eric Perry and Sergeant Clay Spenser.

Kowalski was the assigned equipment and comms tech, and little old me was stuck on weapons and ballistics, plus the only medic on the team. Their very own personal doctor. So far I was able to do assessments of only a few of the team mates, mainly blisters from breaking in new boots or old wounds playing up. The others weren't so willing to open up to me.

Kowalski was easily accepted into the group, but the men shied away from me. Maybe because I'm the only woman? I'd half expected to be the shiny new toy, but it didn't happen that way.

As goes with Sam Taylor, it was usually awkward with him. There was something about the way he would talk to me that seemed too monitored, as if he were processing everything he said first because he was afraid to say anything wrong. I wondered if he were trying to keep certain information away from me, but I of course couldn't be sure.

He was putting his foot down on the fact I was _not_ one of the boys, and I had to bunk in the medic's bunker.

"No." He said at once. His voice was low and authoritative. It made shivers pass through my body while I looked at him with what I would assume were rather confused eyes. He saw my expression and quickly tried to renege his tone. "I don't need you coming to me every five minutes because the boys are disturbing you." His tone was so final and so dark that it made me frown.

"You're better off in your own quarter." He added, before striding off toward the barracks, leaving me reeling in front of the small metal shack that had been reserved for medics.

I thrust my hand against the wooden door, and it slammed against the wall. I didn't even bother to close it. "As if I didn't survive Green Team's sleeping arrangements." I muttered to myself, violently unpacking my gear into the tiny locker at the end of the stretcher bed.

I sat in the medic shed, filling in some paperwork, and doing inventory of supplies.

Breaking the silence, was a knock on the wall, and Colonel Flag walked in the wide open door that I had forgotten to close.

I felt myself stiffen as I peeked at him from the corner of my eye, and he was staring at me, but not gawking like the other Seals had — he had a slightly frustrated expression. I looked down again.

"Are you free?" He croaked.

"What can I do for you sir?" I was avoiding his glare.

Flag sat in vacant seat beside my desk. He went rigid as he turned to look at me, meeting my eyes with the strangest expression on his face — it was hostile, furious. I looked away quickly, shocked, going red.

"My last op in Iran," he answered in monotone.

I nodded again, taking out his file and opening it. I flicked through to the most recent entry, made by the last medic.

"Well, since then my shoulder has been playing up."

I grunted. "It's not noted in here,"

"Well, it won't be. Medic didn't make it back." Flag didn't look away from me the whole time.

I kept my eyes down, bewildered by the antagonistic stare he'd given me. "Sir, I need to ask."

He grunted.

"Why did you choose me? I mean, I can understand Kowalski, but-"

"You and Kowalski graduated in top five. You, in top two. I wouldn't accept anything less than that." Flag replied. I saw his posture change from the corner of my eye. "Skill alone. Though I don't always approve of the order you graduate in."

He was leaning away from me, sitting on the extreme edge of his chair and averting his face like he didn't want to look at me anymore.

I arched one eyebrow in disbelief. "But there _is_ a problem."

"Yeah. With my shoulder." Flag replied arrogantly.

During the whole examination, he never relaxed his stiff position on the edge of his chair, sitting as far from me as possible.

I could see his hand on his left leg was clenched into a fist, tendons standing out under his skin. This, too, he never relaxed.

He had the long sleeves of his green shirt pushed up to his elbows, and his forearm was surprisingly hard and muscular beneath his skin.

He wasn't nearly as slight as he'd looked next to his burly Seals.

After massaging the knots his shoulder, and finding very little to be concerned about, I sighed. "Just a bit of inflammation. Nothing to worry about." I dug out several pills from my locked box, and handed them to him. "Take one every few hours and you'll be as good as new."

He looked at me, and I regretted peering back. He was glaring down at me again, his green eyes full of revulsion.

As I flinched away from him, shrinking against my chair, the phrase _if looks could kill_ suddenly ran through my mind.

"For what it's worth, you're the best sniper, and the only trained combat medic. Plus side is, we'd have an advantage with your gender. You also have the most experience with us from the other Green team graduates. Alpha Dogs need your skill."

I looked to the ground, feeling silly I had even asked. I knew these facts; I didn't deny I had spent extra time honing my skills, and was most likely being watched while I did it. But the fact was, I was the first female in Green Team, and I never expected to be good enough, even for the Colonel's impossibly high standards.

"I don't regret my decision, Chapman. You need to have more confidence in yourself. Alpha Dogs will be coming in for their mandatory medical briefings. Your friend Kowalski is next." He strode toward the door, and I left out a long slow breath.

Mike Kowalski came in, giving Flag a wide birth as they traded places.

"Boy, am I glad to see you," I mumbled once Flag was out of earshot.

Kowalski chuckled. "What was that about?"

I shook my head. "Confidentiality, Kowalski. Remember?" I wasn't allowed to share the personal or medical information about a Seal without their permission; I respected them more to know better.

It made me glad I wasn't the only new member of the team, but it was easier for Kowalski.

"He doesn't hate you."

"Have you seen the way he looks at me?" I argued.

"We're both trying to prove our mettle. It'll be fine." Kowalski gave me a reassuring smile.

I scoffed. "Easy for you to say, you're not the first female to be on the team, _ever_."

"Respect needs to be earned, Trig. And you will earn it, and so will I. Besides, Flag doesn't like anybody. Even his own unit."

"I wonder why?" I mumbled.

"Apparently, he lost his last team a few years ago. The Jihads set up an ambush, and Flag sent out his team first, and he avoided the explosion. He survived and they didn't. So he avoids getting personal."

My shoulders fell with shock. "Oh."

"He has a real chip on his shoulder. At least now you know why."

"The others told you that?"

Kowalski nodded slowly. "Yeah. They're good guys. They'll warm up to you soon."

"Not soon enough." I grumbled.

"They are coming in after me, so you can get to know them. Better study them files." He nodded at the pile beside me.

Kowalski was right, as the men came in one by one, I got to know them a little. One even invited me to the coffee machine to learn how to use it. Generous offer, I had to admit.

Hayes was especially nicer to me over the others, and suggested I share the men's barracks to make more space for medical. He proposed this, meaning I was an equal member of the team. It seemed logical, because my small bed took up a lot of room. I declined, since being denied the luxury of sharing bunks by Taylor.

*.*.*.*

Kowalski waved me over to the table in the cafeteria, which over looked our old green team bench. It seemed strange to be looking at it from here.

Danny Hayes sat down opposite me, and handed me a bottle of beer. He was muscular, and taller than me, but not the tallest in the group. He looked to be in his forties, and sported the usual short scruffy hair and trimmed beard. But he was blond and blue-eyed; typical for the military. He reminded me more of the superhero's human disguise. "So, did you stab Rick Flag with a needle or what? I've never seen him act like that."

I cringed. So I wasn't the only one who had noticed. And, apparently, that _wasn't_ Colonel Flag's usual behaviour. I decided to play dumb. "It was just a sore shoulder." I defended.

Taylor rolled his eyes. Sam Taylor was the shortest, from Texas. He too had sported the beard, and _always_ wore a hat. He was more burley than Hayes, and I was sure he couldn't have picked a tighter shirt.

"He's a weird guy." Hayes's eyes lingered on me. "If I were lucky enough to pick you over the other Greens, I would have talked to you." Hayes was friendly and clearly admiring. But it wasn't enough to ease my irritation.

Clay Spenser was the youngest out of all of us at twenty-seven, but behind the rugged facial hair and long shaggy blond hair, he was just another steroid-fuelled soldier. He was cocky and happy-go-lucky while the others were more mature. He chuckled and shook his head.

I smiled at Hayes before catching eyes with Flag, who stood in the doorway.

My smile fell instantly.

"Chapman! A word." Flag shouted.

The others laughed, and one shouted _uh-ohhhh!_ like high school all over again.

I got up from the table and followed the Colonel. He didn't say anything-but led the way back to my cabin, without looking at me or saying a single word.

"Is everything alright, sir?" I asked as he sat down in the visitor's chair. I stood against the door, crossing my arms. I put on my best straight face, trying to keep any concern from showing.

Flag made himself comfortable, slouching a little. He leaned over his knees and put his hands together but looked down at the floor.

"Aren't your pills working?" I asked.

Flag shook his head. "It's not that. The General suggested I tell you what happened to the last medic."

I sighed. "Not necessary, boss."

Flag cleared his throat. "The op after the last one you were on with us, I lost two men.

Hakim Al Nazeri used this boy as a suicide bomber. Hayes put him out of action. He had a dead-man's trigger, we couldn't shoot him. Hayes disarmed the bomb and knocked the boy unconscious but..." he paused and licked his lips. He was still looking at the floor.

"But what?" I asked.

"When I returned to the stairwell he was standing, he was holding a weapon. When he saw me, he ran. But from where he was standing he had a perfect firing position on both men. I only had time to recover Steve before the Iraqi guards..." He cut off and blinked hard, falling silent.

"Sir, this isn't what you want to hear but… a clean headshot would have stopped the reflex release on the button. So you should have killed him, Colonel."

Flag raised his head, staring blankly but not looking at me. I think if he had, he wouldn't be able to hold himself together. "I know."

"Could have, or didn't want to?" My voice sounded harsh.

He turned slowly to glare at me — his face was absurdly handsome — with piercing, hate-filled eyes. For an instant, I felt a thrill of genuine fear, raising the hair on my arms. I knew just how dangerous Colonel Flag could be.

The look only lasted a second, but it chilled me more than the freezing wind.

He turned back to the floor. "This isn't the first time I failed my team."

I frowned. "Why are you telling me this?"

Flag swallowed hard. "Kowalski told me you're easy to talk to when you're not armed."

I scoffed. "May I be frank?"

He nodded, eyes flicking to the door and back again but he didn't look harsh or unfriendly in some way.

"If you bothered to spend time with your team outside of an op, we might learn to trust you, too. And don't be afraid to take suggestions. Not all the ideas have to be yours. It could save a life. I'm sorry about your team, I truly am. It must be hard to live with."

Flag was silent, but watching my reactions.

"I can't imagine having that on my shoulders, but the only way I would cope, is to blame it on the job. There's only so much one can do, I mean, you're not a superhero. It won't go away. But you have your team to talk to about it. I'm sure they've all lost someone." I thought about the death of my mother as I spoke, and hoped what I said was halfway relevant.

He stood up suddenly, and peered down at me. "Thank you Major. I'll let you get back to your lunch." With that, he up and left.

I let out a sharp breath in disgust. I wished I could say it would get easier, but…every now and then you come across a guy who doesn't feel anything. He goes out there, kills people, and falls asleep before his head hits the pillow.

I used to think that would be better. That maybe I was just too weak. Then I realised-no. It's the thing that reminds us that we're human.

I returned to the cafeteria table, where the guys were already getting up to leave.

"What did Scrooge want?" Hayes asked bluntly.

"Long story. Buy the e-book." I replied flatly.

Perry and Spenser chuckled. "Welcome to Alpha Dogs." he slung a long, heavy arm over my shoulder. "Come on. Kowalski is going to make us his traditional… halal _something_."

I shrugged him off, and looked at Kowalski, demanding an explanation. Kowalski didn't cook. Ever.

"Shakshouka," Kowalski corrected.

Relief swept over me as the men kindly invited me along.

"But what about the Colonel?" I asked, sitting down at the table in the barracks lounge.

Spenser snorted. "He ain't here, he misses out." He slumped into the chair opposite me and winked.

"N-no, I mean- I'm not supposed to be in here."

Perry chuckled. "You're on our team, yes? That means you have every right to access this area. Even if Taylor thinks you're not up to bunking with half a dozen trained assassins,"

"Wait- he said I'm not up to it?"

Kowalski hooted as he stirred the delicious smelling ingredients in the kitchen behind us. "Oh please. Like you aren't used to that? How did you ever survive Green Team, having to share bunks _and_ bathroom with a bunch of muscular, sweaty, hot guys?"

The others didn't seem surprised by this. It wasn't common practice to provide separate facilities for _one_ female trainee.

"Sorry, Trig. Hierarchy rules." Hayes said finally.

I frowned, noticing Taylor wasn't with them when I re-joined the group. "Where _is_ Taylor?"

"Oh, he went to speak with Flag." Spenser said, in a matter-of-fact tone.

It was one of those never-alone days where my perception on life was altered.

Perry had decided not to wait for Kowalski's meal, instead throwing a bag full of fries into a rather dirty looking deep fryer.

"You don't want to try some of my Shakshouka, Trig?" Kowalski called from over his shoulder.

"Sure, I won't pass up a free meal."

"You know, my mother made this meal as a Saturday tradition. What about yours?" Kowalski asked.

I scoffed. "My mother wasn't a traditional anything,"

It was no secret that Kowalski was my best friend, but it was, however, a secret that my mother died when I was younger. It wasn't something I wanted to be pitied for.

Perry and Hayes were making a pile of chilli-cheese fries. The excessively angry and violently envisioned 'The Score' album had stopped playing only three minutes prior to the fries being half way done.

Spenser and I were trying hard to flick some of the sauce onto each other's faces without moving from our five foot distance in between us. It was easy for him because his arms seemed about a whole foot longer than mine were, but I was doing well.

Apparently I had good hand-eye coordination.

Right after Spenser unsuccessfully threw a glob of cheese on my right cheek I heard very angry voices at the door through my laughter.

"-it's ridiculous, if you don't smarten the hell up, you're going to get someone-" Taylor's voice rang angrily. The sound caught me off guard and I had to listen to see if it was even him talking.

Even though, who was I kidding? I knew his husky accent anywhere.

"If you say _kill_ I swear to God-" Hayes's voice sounded just as angry, despite not actually talking to anyone in particular. His voice suddenly much different than when he spoke to me. I wondered if his eyes were no longer warm, emotional, and welcoming.

"Well it's true, Flag!" Taylor bellowed again, replying to a much lower voice outside.

My eyes snapped to Spenser. He seemed to be very peeved with the argument outside and apparently was distracted as to hear whatever it was Flag seemed to have done wrong.

His jaw was set forward, his nostrils flared and his eyes seemed to burn through the front door as if he could see them through it.

"I didn't kill him Taylor! Stop blaming me, he told me he was okay so I could follow the tang-"

"And did you even get the trail? No, you didn't, did you Colonel? You almost got my team killed!" Taylor sound like he was about to burst from fury.

My eyes flicked to Spenser again, trying to see what he thought of the argument.

His eyes were closed as if he were trying to figure out what to do about the situation.

"It's too late, you can't put it back in the box! What has that got to do with segregating the team?"

My eyebrows furrowed...that wasn't what it sounded like, was it?

"You have no idea, do you?" Taylor blared, his voice shaking with anger. From experience I knew that his whole body was trembling with anger. Hopefully he could get it under control, whenever it happened he'd have to leave it to me to deal with.

Good medical practice for me, but nonetheless, I didn't want anyone within the unit to be fighting.

My eyes were now suspiciously wide and my ears were completely tuned in on the conversation. I saw Spenser swivel toward me quickly, understanding what I did: I was probably hearing too much.

"Trig," Spenser said with shifting eyes. He couldn't decide where he should look, at the door or at me. "If I tell you to stay here, would you?"

I scoffed. "No,"

"-I can't take you being here. If you need to go outside the base, you will-" Taylor's voice hissed. It was one of those unearthly sounds that I did not recognize as human. It was so dark, so deep, and so much unlike Taylor that it made me shiver.

"Taylor, Chapman is a Tier One Operator, just like you and me. It's protocol to treat you all the same. Just because you're above the others, it doesn't mean you can make those calls."

That's ridiculous, allowing one man to make the choice of what's best for our team outside of the field. It felt a bit degrading.

Then again, Taylor was good at everything, so I assume he probably got the Alpha male because he was, logically, the best at blowing things up.

"Flag, stop being pigheaded! I _know_ she's the best sniper on base. _You_ know she chose Bravo over us."

Us? The word was vicious. It dripped with some hidden meaning that I didn't understand. Who did 'us' include?

"I'm not giving her the chance to change her mind or to get hurt by your fucking stupidity-" Flag barked, his voice getting raw with anger.

"Damnit, what would she say if she looked out the window and saw you like this?" Perry shouted, standing at the door yelling at them.

There was a pause that also made me pause.

Did I want to see them at each other's throats? Did I want to see if one of them had laid a punch on the other and see the damage and bruises?

Taylor let out a growl, much like Flag's but it was a little lower pitched.

His words came out even, barely controlled and shaking, but still slow. "You're making a mistake. She won't like the idea."

"Watch me." Flag told authoritatively. Somehow, with the tone of his voice I knew that the conversation was over. When I heard something on the wood, something about as heavy as foot falls, I knew I was right.

He was dismissing Taylor from the conversation. Taylor let out a mournful groan, it sounded so full of pain that I felt bad for him immediately, knowing that they were arguing about me. I heard something _thunk_ , like he was hitting one of the poles of the deck.

But before I could gather my thoughts, Taylor and Flag stood inside the door of the barracks-staring straight at me.

The remaining members of Alpha Team seemed to have crossed their arms, and stared back at Taylor with judgmental eyes.

Did I want to have to think about how I was the cause of this rift between comrades?

Kowalski was in a complete daze, he looked worried. So did Spenser and Hayes who were sitting on the kitchen chairs with him, eating away at the chilli cheese fries with a distant expression, all the while being very aware of my reactions.

I backed away from the table slowly, my feet falling softly on the cold wooden floor. Suddenly I was very aware of the guilt eating away at my stomach.

The chair slid back from under me, and I was on my feet. "I'm not as soft as my gender implies." I looked directly at Taylor, who merely sniffed at me. I've gone too far to turn around. I got through and I didn't care how. There was no way I was backing down now.


	3. Chapter 3 Straight to the war

DAMASCUS, SYRIA.

Unrolling toward a hazy desert horizon, Damascus in mid-afternoon sun was so bright it was as if the aperture on the world's lens was stuck one click wide.

From a distance the ancient city had an auburn hue, with its streets of ochre sand and its rooftops of tile and rusted tin.

The only tall structures still standing after years of civil war were the ornate white towers of mosques - Islam being the only thing all Syria held sacred. There were many scrub trees, the tallest just over the low rooftops, and between them high stone walls with pale traces of yellow and pink and grey, fading remnants of pre-civil war civility.

Set there several miles from the coast, framed to the west by desert and the east by gleaming teal ocean, it might have been some sleepy Mediterranean resort.

As the helicopter force swept in over it, gliding back in from the ocean and then banking right and sprinting northeast along the city's western edge, Damascus spread beneath us in its awful reality, a catastrophe, the world capital of things-gone-completely-to-hell.

It was as if the city had been ravaged by some fatal urban disease.

The few paved avenues were crumbling and littered with mountains of trash, debris, and the rusted hulks of burned-out vehicles.

Those walls and buildings that had not been reduced to heaps of gray rubble were pockmarked with bullet scars.

Public spaces displayed the hulking stone platforms that once held statuary from the

heroic old days of dictator Bashar Hafez al-Assad, the national memory stripped bare not out of revolutionary fervour, but to sell the bronze and copper for scrap.

The few proud old government and university buildings that still

stood were inhabited now by refugees. Every open space was clotted with the dense

makeshift villages of the disinherited, round stick huts covered with layers of rags and shacks made of scavenged scraps of wood and patches of rusted tin.

From above they looked like an advanced stage of some festering urban rot.

The bird landed roughly on the tarmac just out of the city, and we dashed into a nearby abandoned warehouse, ducking from keeping our heads being lopped off by the propeller blades.

Once safely inside, we dumped our bags of gear on the concrete floor.

It didn't matter that none of the men in this room knew enough to write a high school paper about Syria.

They took the Special Forces line without hesitation.

Warlords had so ravaged the nation battling among themselves that their people were starving to death. When the world sent food, the evil warlords hoarded it and killed those who tried to stop them.

So the civilized world had decided to lower the hammer, invite the baddest boys on the planet over to clean things up. 'Nuff said.

Damascus was like the post-apocalyptic world of Mel Gibson's _Mad Max_ movies, a world ruled by roving gangs of armed thugs. They were here to rout the worst of the warlords and restore sanity and civilization.

I gazed out the window, the sun striking my face. Moving in front, were cars and people

and donkey carts. It was a normal Sunday afternoon. The target area was just blocks away from the center of the Souq al-Hamidiyeh Market, the busiest in the city.

"Okay," The Colonel said, strapping on his high concealment belt. "It's a personnel recovery of one Dr. Kimberly Wells, kidnapped by a group of unknown hostiles outside of Damascus several hours ago. We have a lead on a driver, but otherwise it's like she's vanished into thin air. We've got no other HUMINT or SIGINT, and not for lack of trying.

I don't have to give you a primer on the politics of this one. We're in a non-permissive environment in a state of civil war. And a city where half the population will shoot you on sight if they figure out who you are. There'll be no support on this one. No cavalry."

"Right." Taylor replied, no surprised. "We are the cavalry."

"Man, I appreciate the effort, but when are these bleeding hearts gonna learn that it's just too dangerous to try and help people over here, man?" Kowalski shook his head disapprovingly.

"God gave us two hands for a reason, my brother: One to help ourselves and one to help lift others." Spenser replied.

"Thank you, Clay." Kowalski replied.

"I got better uses for mine." I added, showing them my Heckler & Kock HK416.

Spenser looked up, surprised. "You're one scary lady."

"Come in, Alpha, One," the comms hashed.

Flag sighed. "Go for Alpha," he replied lazily, giving me a nervous glance.

"We got an ID on the driver. Nassim Taub. Married, one son. No known terrorist affiliations. Til now." The Tactical officer said. "Where is he?" Flag asked bluntly. "Well, it looks like he turned his phone off an hour after the kidnapping, but we should be able to get a fair idea of where he took her, at least." She replied. I frowned. "There's not gonna be a ransom call?" "They just drove her into the Al-Nusrah controlled part of the city." Tac said. "Al-Nusrah doesn't ransom Americans; they chop off their heads." Flag replied, looking at me.

"Alpha Team, you need to find that driver. Kimberly Wells' lifespan just shrunk from weeks to days." She hashed out.

Flag took a deep breath. "Okay. Now, we're all familiar with the Al-Nusrah front's work, including a bombing in Istanbul, the coordinated attacks in the Fedura Market, which killed eighty-seven civilians, including fourteen children. People like this are why we come to work every day. Last week, D.C dropped a JDAM (Joint Direct Attack Munition) on a meeting of ANF principals, killing their leader, Burhan Baghdadi. It seems Wells' kidnapping is in retaliation for something we did, which means she will be executed, very publicly, in the next 72 hours. That's our clock."

"So what's our position?" Taylor asked, stroking his beard.

"In position around the driver's apartment building, but it's a tactical nightmare. We recon the building. Chapman, Kowalski, you will take south-east rooftop. The rest of us will be on the ground." Flag instructed.

Kowalski raised his eyebrows at me. "Spotters. Perfect."

I rolled my eyes and took my sniper rifle and place the HK416 on its sling on my back. "I can't get away from you, can I?" I mumbled.

"Alpha Four, this is ground element. Plan is to take the driver, interrogate him, and make him give up Wells' location." Flag said through my earpiece.

"Jesus, look at that place." Kowalski said, peering over the ledge of the roof at the target building.

"All right, Chapman, got any movement in that apartment?" Flag was on the street below, looking up at us with his binoculars.

"Negative." I reported mechanically.

Kowalski had the RF (Radio frequency) booster pointed at the building, but the only noise we got was static, and a few muffled voices. "Walls are pretty thick, so the signal's not very strong. There's definitely multiple voices, though."

Flag grunted. "Well, we can't wait around here anymore. Kowalski, Chapman, soon as these kids clear the square, I want you to start your approach. Let's see what you kids can do."

I surveyed the area around the coffee shop Flag was sitting outside of, through the sniper scope.

"Wonder if I have kids." He said, thoughtfully.

"Really, bro?" I replied.

"What? I wouldn't be the first guy to get a call like that. Besides, I think I'd be a great dad."

"That's what you deduced?"

"Yeah, man. I dated a single mom once. I think I stuck around for the kid more than anything.

I liked the way he looked at the world, you know? It was all innocent, asking questions, no clue how bad it really is."

"You ever think maybe it was the kid who had things figured out as they are; you're the one who needs the adjustment?"

Kowalski scoffed. "No, Trig, I didn't. And stop with that spiritual jujitsu you do where I say something and then you turn it around on me."

I chuckled.

"Okay, Alpha Four, you're clear." Flag reported.  
I began to pack up the gear, when Flag continued. "Remember, keep your head on a swivel.

Anyone could be a hostile."

We began walking around the perimeter of the building in our civilian disguises, watching for any movement.

Kowalski and I split up; he took the east alley toward the back, and I went around the front.

"Back door's clear." Kowalski said. "I'm heading in."

I casually strolled past Flag at the coffee shop, being sure not to look in his direction, when he spoke in my ear.

"Chapman, green door."

Just as I was about to reach the green door ahead of me, a tall, bearded man with a freshly pressed suit went through the door. I kept walking past, as though I wasn't going for it. "Flag…" I grumbled, hoping he wasn't distracted and saw the man who had cut me off.

"Yeah, I saw him. Double back and re-approach. Kowalski, one tango heading to you." He replied lowly.

I turned sluggishly, and made a second attempt to go in.

"He's heading towards the driver's door. Second floor." Kowalski reported.

"Okay, Hayes, Spenser, I gotta know what's happening in there, and I gotta know it now." Flag ordered.

Taylor sighed. "Sounds like an argument."

"Chapman, get in there." Flag said.

I entered the door, and went down the hall toward the staircase. There were silenced gunshots, and I paused on the staircase, taking out my SIG handgun.

My heart stopped, and then broke into a sprint. A cold sweat dewed on the back of my neck,

and my hands turned to ice. I waited, watching and listening to my next order.

"I got multiple shots. Nine mil." Hayes confirmed.

More gunshots came from upstairs. I hugged the wall, waiting for my instructions.

"Double taps. Whoever this guy is, he's a pro." Hayes continued.

"He's coming out." Kowalski said.

Taylor hummed. "Whoever that guy is, he's our only chance of finding Wells."

Flag breathed into the earpiece. "Chapman, let him walk."

I slipped my pistol into my pocket, and casually climbed the rest of the stairs. My eyes fell to my feet as I went up, so I didn't see if the man was looking at me as he passed, but he didn't seem as though he were in a hurry. "He's coming down." I whispered.

"He killed them all: Driver, wife, and son." Kowalski said, his voice almost a whisper..

Ellis sighed, frustrated. "See if you can get a good image for facial recognition."

"Nah, you don't need it." Flag said quickly.

"Why's that?"

"You don't need it. That's Abu Al-Akmuti, Baghdadi's top lieutenant. We follow him, he takes us to Wells. Kowalski, Jaz, on me. Hayes, Spenser, Taylor, on the move."

I doubled back, back out onto the street. I began to marvel at how I was the first one to be called by their first name by the Colonel. A Top Dog like Flag would only use first names if they had a close relationship. I very rarely called Kowalski or Thibault by first name, unless we were in public or very drunk. Sometimes if I wanted them to know I was angry with them.

Maybe it was a slip up? Did he think it was normal for people to call me _Jaz_? My name was always Trig in the force… _always_. But, I kind of liked it.

I saw Flag following the man ahead, and I sped up, and I passed Flag, keeping my eye on the target.

"Chapman, watch your spacing. Kowalski, stay parallel, maintain visual." Flag said.

"You got any idea where this guy's going?" Taylor asked.

Flag grunted. "Negative. So keep it tight."

One man beside me began talking to me, and suddenly grabbed at my arm. _You are alone?_

I snatched my arm back, and replied in Arab. _Back off!_

In most Arab societies, a woman walking unaccompanied by their husband usually meant she had been disowned for disobeying the husband, or dishonouring the family. Therefore, other men were allowed to prey on her.

"Chapman, break contact." Flag snapped.

The man ahead turned and looked at me-he heard me raise my voice.

"Damn it." I cursed.

"You're compromised." Flag replied. "Jaz, are you okay?"

I slowed down and took the target's right flank. _Stupid move,_ I thought angrily.

"Alpha One, we have your target moving southwest." Tac reported.

"All right, I got the follow." Flag replied.

Ellis cleared her throat as I stopped at a fruit stall. "Here's the most recent intel on Akmuti.

He went to ground two hours before Wells was kidnapped. He's heading into a covered part of the market. Alpha One, we're about to lose visual." She paused. "We lost visual."

I ducked into a nearby alley, listening to the comms. No point in me continuing the follow if he made me. I stayed out of sight.

A man grunted, and the sound of ceramic pots smashed in the back ground.

Flag suddenly started speaking another language, then paused. "He made me. Kowalski, he's coming to you."

"He's pulling a phone." Kowalski replied.

Ellis gasped. "If he tells the other kidnappers, she's dead, Colonel."

"Execute, execute, execute!" Flag ordered.

"Hey, hey!" Taylor shouted. It sounded like they were fighting.

"Nope!" Flag yelled.

The male grunts stopped.

"Ops, status." Ellis ordered.

"All right, change of plans. We got a hostage of our own." Flag panted.

*.*.*.*

The Colonel was pacing the roof of the safe house, his phone to his ear. "I know this isn't where we wanted to be, but we didn't have a choice, and now we've got Akmuti….I understand, but at least this way, we can take another run at it."

"I thought you were gonna end that guy in the market." Hayes said to me, taking a swig from his water bottle.

I took off my hijab, smiling. "They get grabby, I get crabby." I let my hair down out of the usual pony tail and tired it back up, tighter this time.

Taylor looked at Kowalski, who was folding up his prayer mat. "Show me a man who believes in something greater, that's a man I'll fight beside."

"Kowalski, doesn't it make you a little angry to be sitting in a mosque praying next to a guy who might blow your head off someday?" Hayes asked.

"Makes me angrier than you, as a non-Muslim, could ever understand." Kowalski muttered.

"I understand Kowalski is new, but he spent three years undercover with ISIS. General vetted him. I trust him. If he tells me it's gonna work, it's gonna work..." Flag continued on the other side of the roof. "…Of course it is…Okay, so then what's the alternative? We take him to a CIA safe house? It's gonna take them a week to break him…The only way Akmuti gives up Wells' location is if he doesn't know he's doing it." He paused, looking over at us as we leaned on the wall. "Right, switching." He looked at Kowalski. "You're up."

Kowalski bowed his head nervously.

I glanced at him, but he didn't raise his head to look back.


	4. Chapter 4 Another day at the office

"All right, listen up, people." Ellis said. "We're gonna be blind in there. I want to isolate Kowalski's feed so he can't hear the rest of the team. Slightest distraction at the wrong time could give him away. And we'll need the name of someone high enough in the AMF (Army Modular Force) for Akmuti to have heard of but not someone operational. Khamal Benin. It's one of Baghdadi's chief financiers."

Kowalski had already headed toward the room we kept Akumuti in.

"Kowalski." Ellis began talking in Arabic. " _Ready when you are."_

I stayed down the hall, and listened as the others treated Kowalski as though he were a hostage, tying up his hands with a zip tie and pushing him inside the room.

The door slammed, and Flag took the wall to lean on beside me.

I folded my arms and stared blankly at the wall ahead, ignoring everyone else.

"Okay?" Flag asked, looking down at me.

From the corner of my eye, he seemed concerned. "Kowalski is good. Don't worry."

"I'm not worried about him." I replied coldly. "Akumuti won't do anything."

"Yeah, blah, blah, blah. Shut the hell up!" Taylor yelled at Kowalski and slammed the door.

Ellis hashed in. "Benin's older brother Yusef was rendition two years ago. Akmuti would have heard of that. Okay, throw him a red herring. That way, when you mention Wells later, he'll be more likely to bite."

We waited several minutes, and I couldn't follow Kowalski's conversation with our prisoner-they were talking too fast.

"Okay, Colonel, pull him out." Ellis instructed.

Flag sent me a tight smile, and went along with the plan.

I looked away, sighing. _It all better be worth it._

Flag, Hayes and Taylor took Akumuti into another room. Sounds of punching and grunting came from the room with the four men. I went to Kowalski, and sliced the zip tie just enough-to make it easier for him to fake his escape.

Yelling, smacking and grunting from the other room continued.

"That's enough." Kowalski said. He looked up at me, his eyes were dark and cold. "Now I need blood. Cut me."

I scoffed. "Are you sure about that?" I wasn't going to be gentle.

Kowalski nodded. "It's gotta be real to sell this, and I'm not giving you a chance to punch me in the face."

I grinned, and used the knife to make a decent cut on his arm, then rolled his sleeve over the top, allowing the blood to ink through the fabric.

The sound of an engine turning over went through the comms. The car door slammed. "Vehicle's set." Spenser said.

I dashed out of the room and shut the door behind me, and waited in the hall again, staying out of the hostage's sight.

"All right, all right. Get him out of here." Flag ordered.

"Okay, all right, they're bringing him back. Time to set the hook." Ellis said to Kowalski.

Hayes shoved the man back into the room with Kowalski and slammed the door.

I switched off the comms- I didn't want to hear any more.

Flag and Hayes stood beside me, their knuckles red and gashed. I looked up at Spenser, who winked back.

"You're a hard girl, Trig. Your best friend is in there, making friends with the enemy." Spenser crooned.

I shrugged. I still felt guilty, but I wasn't afraid anymore. I could function. I could see past what was coming, and almost believe that maybe it _would_ be okay.

Flag frowned, and looked at me. My eyes flashed up to his face by accident-his eyes warmed up. His forehead creased, like he was worried. "Is that all right?" he asked, concerned by my silence. Flag looking more and more awkward, until I got what he was saying.

Then I hurried to reassure him. "I'm fine." I said quietly.

Flag looked away from me suddenly. "Copy." His head lifted in my direction. "Load up."

We climbed into another car around the corner from the decoy vehicle, which Spenser had prepared for Kowalski and Akamuti's escape.

"All right, if Akumuti gives up Wells' location, I want you to take him out." Flag commanded.

I took the front passenger seat, my favourite sniper rifle- the H&K M110A1 loaded, but safety on.

I took a deep breath, knowing if I missed, Kowalski would be the one in the firing line.

Flag heard me sigh, and he leaned over to look at me.

"Look, if I'm giving you a shot, it's because I know you can make it. Trust me." Flag said, drinking from his water canteen.

 _Sure,_ I thought to myself. _Trust him._ He wasn't the one who was going to have to sit behind

and wonder whether or not his best friend was going to come home.

He laughed at the silence. "You've got to have a little more confidence in yourself than that. It's insulting. At least Kowalski and I trust you. Don't worry about the others."

I just shook my head.

The sting of anxiety washed through me. Kowalski had trusted me implicitly–trusted me with every single secret he had.

I was supposed to be his safe harbor–the person he could always rely on. Of course things were strained right now, but I didn't think any of the underlying foundation had changed. I didn't think that was _changeable_.

What had he done to deserve this? Kowalski was going to be so mad–and worse than that, he

was going to be hurt and worried. Didn't he have enough to deal with already?

I sniffed. "I know. You're the only CO I've ever had who looks at me and doesn't see a woman first."

"Well, I may not see it, but I don't forget it. Because I know that getting here was harder for you than I'll ever understand." Flag paused. "Kowalski trusts you, like I said."

I paused too, and then we both smiled at the little awkwardness.

"Alpha One, he's heading your way." Ellis said.

"Roger that." Flag said, starting the car.

Ellis's voice was certain now. "All right, Kowalski, it's the gray pickup right in front of you."

"All right, hold." Flag said into the comm, as we watched Kowalski get into the driver's seat of the pickup. "Hold…now."

The engine turned over, and Kowalski waited.

Akumuti got into the passenger seat.

I frowned. Why wasn't Kowalski driving away now? I looked closer, and through the shadows, I could see something shiny glisten against Kowalski's neck. "Hey, we got a wrinkle. He just put up something sharp against Kowalski's collar."

"Shit!" Taylor cursed through the comms. "You better fix this, Major!"

 _No pressure then,_ I thought, making the anxiety worsen. I tapped my foot on the floor of the car, hoping it would help. It didn't.

The pickup began to move, and Flag drove our car at a safe distance behind.

"They're coming, get low." Hayes said to Spenser, as Kowalski's truck headed toward them.

"Got it. AMF compound two blocks west. It's the perfect place to hold her. Redirect the drone. Get eyes on that compound." Ellis reported. "Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait. That's less than a mile away. I don't care how good Kowalski is, if he goes in there, he's never coming out. Colonel, you have a green light."

I looked at Flag. "You still think I can make that shot?"

Flag nodded without turning to look at me.

"That's what I thought." I leaned out of the window, and aimed my sniper rifle at Akumuti.

The car's tire hit a pothole, and my arm slammed against the inside of the door.

"Whoops." Flag said, almost smug.

I scowled at him over my shoulder.

"Five blocks to the compound." Ellis said.

I took a deep breath, and aimed again. The cross-hairs were unsteady, wavering from side to side as the truck swayed with the road.

People think that snipers take such incredibly long shots all the time.

While we do take longer shots than most guys on the battlefield, they're probably a lot closer than most people think. I never got all caught up in measuring how far I was shooting. The distance really depended on the situation.

In the cities, where most of my kills came, you're only going to be shooting anywhere from two hundred to four hundred yards anyway. That's where your targets are, so that's where your shots are.

Out in the country side, it's a different story.

Typically, the shots out there would run from eight hundred to twelve hundred yards.

That's where the longer-range guns like the .338 would come in handy.

Someone once asked me if I had a favourite distance.

My answer was easy: the closer the better.

Another misperception people have about snipers is that we always aim for the head. Personally, I almost never target the head, unless I'm absolutely sure I'm going to make the shot. And that's rare on the battlefield. I'd much rather aim center mass—shoot for the middle of the body. I've got plenty of room to play with. No matter where I hit him, he's going down.

But, from the behind a car, the head is the only target.

"Three blocks." Ellis counted.

There wasn't a clear shot while the truck was still moving. My heart pounded in my chest as I tried to hone in. "Two blocks."

 _There!_ Akamuti's head moved into the sight, and I pulled the trigger. A splash of blood splattered on the truck's back window. "Target down." I mumbled coolly.

"Pulling over for pick up." Kowalski said, voice shaky.

Ellis gasped. "Good job."

We pulled over behind Kowalski and I jumped out, allowing him to climb into the back.

I leaned against the car and smiled. "You're welcome."

Kowalski rolled his eyes, dumbfounded. "How did we do?" He asked Flag.

The Colonel leaned over the steering wheel. "We found her."

*.*.*.*

"That's a convoy. They're moving her. Colonel, they're headed east in quadrant one heading into quadrant two." Ellis said.

"Yeah, we're on 'em." Flag replied, speeding up, and tailing the chain of SUV's through the abandoned neighbourhood. "Any guess where they're going?"

"Convoy's still moving east. And heading deeper into Al-Nusrah controlled territory every minute." Ellis replied. "Colonel, what about an ambush on the run?"

"Three armoured trucks in the middle of the city?" Flag asked, cynically.

Ellis hummed. "They could be driving her to her death."

"Well, trying an ambush is only gonna speed that up." I added.

"All right, hold on, hold on." Flag said. "They're pulling off the main road."

Ellis paused. "No, no, you're right. Convoy's slowing down. Looks like they're heading for that large structure."

My eyes followed the convoy through the city hospital gates.

"Anybody want to explain to me why the AMF just drove their only hostage into a hospital? Get me an ID on everybody with her. Spenser, get video." Flag ordered.

"Sending." Spenser replied.

"Anybody else get the idea she's on a one-way trip?" I asked.

"Yeah, I do." Flag said in a frustrated tone.

"Image coming in now." Spenser said to Ellis.

Flag stopped the car short of the hospital gates, and turned in his seat. "Kowalski, Chapman, I want you two to couple up. You should have no problem getting inside. Taylor, I want you to maintain a line of sight to this entrance. Hayes, I'm gonna need you to grab their air." Flag was putting explosive putty into his pockets. "Spenser, you're on PAX dust-off (Emergency personnel evacuation from a combat zone.). "

I gave Flag a nod. "What are you gonna do?" I began loading a fresh mag into my SIG, and putting my hijab back on.

He grinned. "Wing it."

We all got out of the car, and I took Kowalski's arm, posing as his wife. We headed for the main entrance, which was heavily guarded by Syrian soldiers.

 _Hold it. What are you doing?_ He asked in Arabic.

 _Please. Look at him._ I begged. _He needs to see a doctor._

 _I need help,_ Kowalski added.

The masked guard stared for a long moment. _All right, go on._

Kowalski and I went in, and breathed a weak sigh of relief. We were in.

"Command, need a little help here." Flag mumbled into the comm.

Ellis cleared her throat. "Yes, Colonel, there's a service door ahead at your One O'clock.

"Roger. I have visual." He replied. The comms went quiet, and Kowalski and I circled the floor, counting how many guards were in the wing.

"All right, Chapman, Kowalski, on my position."

"That's Baghdadi's wife," Ellis said suddenly. "They didn't kidnap Kimberly Wells to get revenge. They kidnapped her because she's a surgeon."

"Baghdadi's still alive." Flag mumbled.

"I'm not saying I'm gonna enjoy killing these guys, but you kidnap a woman, you get what you deserve." Taylor said.

Hayes scoffed, "Yeah, well, unfortunately, there is evil in the world. Sometimes power only bows down to more power." There were computer beeps in the background. "Okay, Boss. I've got their air."

"Coming in." I said, and Kowalski followed me into the lobby.

"All right, come in." Flag replied.

We met up with Flag in a small GP office. "We counted four roving patrols, and there's sentries at each entrance; two tangos on the third floor outside the OR."

"So they're using Wells to operate on Baghdadi." Flag said thoughtfully.

Kowalski nodded. "Which means they'll kill her as soon as she's served her purpose."

"What does DC (Washington DC) want us to do? They've gone quiet." I asked.

Flag sighed. "Obviously it's a tough call, but it took us seven years to find Baghdadi.

Letting him escape so he can rebuild his terror network is not an option. If he gets away, there's no telling how many more innocents he will kill. What we _do_ _not_ do is sacrifice Kimberly Wells so that we can get Baghdadi instead."

I frowned. "If we go after Wells, it'll tip Baghdadi off that we're on to him. He'll slip out of that hospital, disappear into the city."

Kowalski shook his head. "You don't know that for sure."

"Nobody wants to save Kimberly Wells more than I do. But we are fighting people that want to wipe us off the planet. That means we have to be as ruthless as they are." Flag sounded helpless.

"Alpha One," Ellis hashed in.

"Go for Alpha," Flag replied.

"If you cannot eliminate Baghdadi, you are to withdraw without engagement so as to not tip his people off that we are on to him." Ellis instructed.

Flag lifted his head as if he could not believe what he was hearing.

"So Wells is dead." I snapped.

Flag looked at me over his shoulder, and put up his hand for me to be quiet.

"Colonel, our target is Baghdadi. But as far as I'm concerned, how you get him is at your discretion. Is that clear?" Lieutenant General Blackburn hashed in.

"Acknowledged." Flag answered. "Stand by."

"Boss?" I said.

"Yeah, Chapman," He groaned, rolling his eyes. "Officially, we have been re-tasked to get Baghdadi. But Blackburn has given us some latitude as to how we do that." He crossed his arms. "We're outmanned. We're outgunned. And even if we could get into that OR, we can't fire a shot 'cause we're stuck inside of a damn hospital. We got one thing going for us. That's that she doesn't know who we are." He sighed and gazed at Kowalski thoughtfully. "Okay, I got a plan. It's risky, but far as I'm concerned, we didn't come this far to leave Kimberly Wells behind."

"What do we do?" Kowalski asked.

Flag swallowed hard. "I'm going to get the guards attention. I'll walk through the front entrance, and Chapman, I want you to follow to where ever they take me. Hayes will kill their radios on my mark. Hopefully, Baghdadi's wife will come running. Then, we'll take her as our own hostage, and give her the ultimatum. Kowalski, you will still with Chapman and provide over watch. Got it?"

We nodded, and split up. Kowalski and I went to the waiting room, and stood around, waiting for the Colonel's show. We had to make it look like we were supposed to be there, so we began talking amongst ourselves, carefully watching the guards at the door.

"Alpha, we're in position." Kowalski said.

"Coming to you," Flag replied.

The guards were already busy checking other people entering the hospital, and Flag slipped by.

One of the guards saw, and chased after him, grabbing Flag by the shoulder and spinning him around. _Hey you!_

The guard searched Flag and held up Flag's pistol. _What is this for?_

Flag held up his hands in surrender.

"I don't like this _,"_ Kowalski said to me as we watched two other guards join in.

"Stay cool", I replied. "He knows what he's doing."

The guards grabbed Flag and steered him down a hallway, away from the waiting room.

We got up slowly, and crept along behind, making sure we weren't obvious by keeping a large gap between us, and the guards.

"Exam room," Flag whispered through my ear piece. "Sixty two."

"Copy," I replied, grabbing a nearby supply trolley. Kowalski followed behind, and pointed at the door.

Angry voices were coming from inside.

I pressed myself against the wall, waiting for the right time to intrude.

 _Room 62, ma'am._ One of the guards said into his radio.

It sounded like the guards were emptying Flag's pockets, his weapons were being thrown on the table.

"Ah, careful with that. Goes boom." Flag said nonchalantly.

 _The Semtex!_ I thought, remembering the putty Flag had shoved into his pouch.

"Boom?" One of the guards repeated.

Flag hummed. "Mm-hmm."

It sounded like Flag was getting slapped by the guards inside.

The time was now. _If that putty was to detonate…_ I looked at Kowalski over my shoulder and nodded once. I knocked on the door, and got ready to ram the cart into the guard when the door opened.

The first guard went down under the trolley, and I broke the neck of the next one, and Flag broke the neck of the one closest to him.

Flag shrugged off one of the guard's bodies as it slumped against him.

"Get what you needed?" Flag panted.

"Sure did." I replied.

Flag chuckled, grabbing his weapons and stuffing them back into his vest. "Cart was a nice touch."

I grinned. "Yeah, I thought so too."

"Hayes kill their air."

"Done." Hayes replied.

I gave Flag a reassuring nod, then hid behind the door.

Flag stayed in the room, ducking into the corner beside the door, ready for the wife to come in.

Kowalski left the room quickly, closing the door.

A woman, dressed in a black hijab stormed into the room, moments later. The door flung back, and I dodged it before it slammed into me. I took out my pistol, and waited.

"Uh, uh,uh…" Flag uttered, as the woman were reaching into her hijab. "Dr. Kimberly Wells. You're using her, probably to patch up a few of your guys. Free surgeries are over." Flag told her, pointing his handgun at her.

"Who are you?" She replied.

"I'm the guy getting paid to bring her back in one piece. Now, I suggest you make it your business to help me with my business. Go ahead. Try your radio."

The woman took her radio from her pocket, but only heard static.

Flag paused. "I got your comms immobilized and the rest of your roving patrols look like these two crash test dummies right here. Jaz?"

I stepped out, aiming my gun at her. I felt a ping of excitement-not because I was pointed a loaded weapon at the enemy's face, but because the Colonel called me Jaz again. No one else called me that, not even Kowalski. Was it now he accepted me as one of the team? Was his favourite Alpha Dog? I kept a straight face, and didn't move my eyes from Baghdadi's wife.

"Either you send out my girl, my team and I, we go away quietly, or you don't. In which case, we put you down, and we go into that OR (Operating Room), we make a real mess. It's your call."

I stared her down as she glanced at me.

"Come on." I droned. "Neither of us want to lose our people over this, do we?"

"Hayes, open the line." Flag ordered.

The woman hashed her radio. _Has the woman finished?_ She asked.

 _Yes, she said it was a success._ A man replied.

 _Bring her to me, room 62._ She instructed.

I saw Flag's hand move slowly to the supply cart, and he grabbed a syringe. The he held out his other hand. "Radio."

The woman handed it back, watching him in terror.

Flag grabbed her arm, knocking the radio out of her hand.

The woman gasped as he covered her mouth, and plunged the syringe into her neck. "Night-night." He said, lowering her to the ground. His hands began rummaging her pockets. He slid her gun across the floor to me, and I took it, putting it in my pocket. He found a loaded mag, and flicked out the bullets with a scalpel, and the bullets landed around her body, then he shoved the Semtex putty into the empty mag and shoved it back into the pouch on the woman's belt.

"Okay, I want you to take out the guards as they bring her to his room, I'll secure the HVT (High Value Target) and take her to the truck." Flag said. He was undressing one of the guards.

I grabbed the scarf from around her neck, and shoved it in my pocket, and went outside to join Kowalski. "Let's go." We headed down the hall toward the OR, and walked as slowly as possible, until Wells and the guards came around the corner.

Kimberley Wells, blonde and fear strewn across her face, was being shoved down the hall by two guards. Her pleading eyes met mine as she got closer.

I moved to one side of the hall, Kowalski the other, ready to take out the guards as they passed.

I whipped out the wife's scarf, and flung it around the guard's neck, choking him until he went limp.

Kowalski broke the neck of the other guard with his arm.

Flag crept up behind us and covered Well's mouth, grabbing her and pulling her back down the hall. He was wearing one of their guard's uniforms.

Wells began whimpering and gasping.

"Dr. Wells, I'm with the American government. We're here to take you home. Do you understand?" Flag paused. "Kimberly, do you understand? Every hostile that's seen your face has either been eliminated or is back in that operating room, which means that you and I can walk out of here without anyone stopping us. Can we do that?"

The woman nodded, and Flag took his hand away from his mouth. "Let's go."

They disappeared around the corner.

"Hayes, coming out." Flag said through the comms.

"We got Flag exiting the building." Hayes confirmed.

Ellis gasped. "Colonel, you got a live one in the truck."

"Taylor…50 cal." Flag ordered.

There were gunshots through the comms, and the woman began screaming.

"All right, Kimberly, these guys are gonna take you home, okay?" Flag said, followed by the sound of a car door slamming.

"Let's go! Let's go!" Spenser was yelling.

"Chapman, Kowalski, rendezvous on me." Flag said.

"Oh, my god, they got her." Ellis shouted in my ear. "We got no signs of pursuit. Good job."

The woman was whimpering in the car.

"Okay, you're all right. You're all right. We got you." Spenser said to her. "You're safe."

Ellis grunted. "We got Baghdadi exiting the building."

Kowalski and I looked at each other in realisation, and hurried toward the front entrance, and Flag stopped a truck outside. We climbed in, and watched as the convoy began to leave the hospital.

"Uh, they're on the move. He's getting away." Ellis said. "Alpha One, do you copy? Baghdadi is on the move."

Flag ignored the comm and looked at me, grabbing what looked like a remote from his pocket. He looked at me and grinned.

The vehicle containing Baghdadi and his wife exploded with an ear-smarting crack against a wall alongside the SUV with a _screech_ of metal on metal and exploded across the street against a concrete wall with a concussion that lifted the

wide-bodied vehicle up on two wheels. The flames engulfed the wreckage.

Flag turned to me. "Let's go home."


	5. Chapter 5 You're it

The team had opened up to me slowly, I guess it was because I didn't talk or smile much. But that wasn't the weird part.

Flag was absent.

The rest of the week was uneventful. I got used to the routine of the team's downtime. By Friday I was able to recognize, if not name, almost all the officers at the base.

Every day, I watched anxiously until the rest of the Alpha Dogs entered the cafeteria without Flag. Then I could relax and join in the lunchtime conversation.

Mostly it centered on a trip to the local bar within of the base in two days that Hayes was putting together.

I was invited, and I had agreed to go, more out of politeness than desire.

By Saturday I was perfectly comfortable entering our situation room, no longer worried that Flag would be there. For all I knew, he had gone on leave.

I tried not to think about him, but I couldn't totally suppress the worry that I was responsible for his continued absence, ridiculous as it seemed.

My first weekend in Alpha Dogs passed without incident. Kowalski, unused to spending time in the unusually empty barracks, worked out most of the weekend.

I cleaned the medical cabin, got ahead on my notes and inventory, and wrote my brother some bogusly cheerful e-mails.

I spied the team's dossiers from the shelf across the room. Curious, I opened the one by one, hoping it would give me an insight to their backgrounds.

After studying most of them, my hands fell on Colonel Flag's. I hadn't yet had the chance to find out exactly what made him tick.

Reluctantly, I opened it.

TOP SECRET was stamped across the page.

His folder was thicker and heavier than the others; the package is supposed to be a long dossier of everything you've done as a Seal, minus the bar fights.

Everything in Flag's package was his service record, medical chart which was several pages. You could almost write a novel on this man's accomplishments and medical notes.

Even his Silver Stars and Bronze Medals were in there.

Graduated from West Point after high school- skipped college all together.

We has deployed after only two months of USMC (US Marine Corps) training, and after eight tours in the Marine Corps, he became a Navy Seal. Even after the countless ops run under JSOC( Joint Special Operations Command), the DEVGRU ops were never recorded. Because we didn't even exist.

The medical records were brief, but there were a lot of them.

Most issued leave was declined by Flag, and also any psychotherapy that was offered between ops.

There was the occasional acceptance, the longest one recorded at two months after an op under NSWDG (Naval Special Warfare Development Group) in Fallujah.

I remembered this war vaguely on the news while I was stationed in Pakistan. Fifty one Special ops were killed during the Iraq War.

The pieces fit together perfectly.

Kowalski said Flag lost his entire unit at a Jihad stronghold.

I didn't bother to read any of the notes on Flag's injuries just yet, I was preoccupied with the depth of the devastation he must have dealt with after losing several men.

I would accept that, though it wouldn't change the way I felt about him-cautious.

I thought of him as a . . . living stone - hard and cold.

That's true. Seals are set the way we are, and it is very rare for us to experience a real change.

I had no idea if Flag was winning or losing. He needed help. A distraction. Something to give him an edge. Perhaps this was why he took a sudden leave of absence.

This was the life I had signed up for. Was I strong enough? Was I brave enough?

I did drive to the market Saturday, but it was so poorly stocked that I didn't bother to get a thing; I would have to make a date to visit the city soon and find a good supermarket.

The rain stayed soft over the weekend, quiet, so I was able to sleep well.

People greeted me at the target range Monday morning. I didn't know all their names, but I waved back and smiled at everyone. It was colder this morning, but happily not raining.

My phone pinged out nowhere. An unknown number, 999999. This was our secret call to duty.

I dropped everything and ran to the situation room, but no one was there. After a few minutes, the men arrived, chatting amongst themselves.

"Hey, Nurse Joy is here before everyone else." Taylor cheered.

"A case of beer for you," I snarled.

Kowalski laughed.

Hayes happily sat beside me, and he seemed to do that a lot. If there was an empty seat next to me, he took it. Kowalski sat at the other end of the long table, with Spenser close behind.

"Hey, why do they call you Trig?" Hayes asked, grabbing a pen and notepad.

Kowalski scoffed. "It's short for Trigger Finger."

Hayes grinned. "Ahhh."

Perry's eyes panned our faces curiously. "Anyone seen Flag today?"

I shook my head, along with everyone else.

Hayes shrugged. "Bout time me had some time off. Dude is intense."

"How long have you worked with him?" I asked casually.

Spenser took a swig of his coffee. "Well, Taylor and Perry have been here since the stone age, and Hayes and I have only had to put up with two years of servitude."

"Gee, thanks," Perry muttered, standing behind Taylor.

I grinned. "Flag doesn't like anybody, I take it?"

"He doesn't notice anyone long enough to like them." Taylor answered.

I frowned. "High expectations?"

"No- he just doesn't get close to anyone. Ever since the Jihads, I mean." Taylor sniffed and leaned back in his chair, folding his arms as though he were offended.

"Doesn't that bother you?"

Kowalski frowned. "Since when did you care about anyone Trig?"

I scoffed. "I don't care. But if I expect to at least know my Commanding Officer and be able to trust him. We're supposed to be a perfect team. How do you do that if you don't know anyone on it?"

Hayes nodded. "She's right. Maybe we need to give him a break."

Taylor grunted. "He got Steve and Gregg killed. I don't trust him."

"That's why he's making mistakes. Because we don't trust him. He has to prove himself to us. Not the other way around." Hayes replied.

"No, no no. I've known him my entire career. He wasn't always a hard-ass. He's making mistakes because he never takes time off for himself, and tried too bloody hard not to follow the rules. He's been suicidal since the Jihads." Perry sighed. "He needs to get counselling."

"He tried." I answered quickly.

They all turned to me, wide-eyed.

I instantly regretted opening my mouth. "He came to me last week, and told me about Steve and Gregg. He's torn up."

The team looked dazed and confused.

"General's instructions, apparently"

Kowalski bowed his head. "Well, shit." He chuckled. "You? You're no good to talk to, you can't care about anything we tell you. Not even Hayes's blisters."

They laughed.

"You got something on your chin." I sneered.

Kowalski wiped his face, but found nothing.

"Oh, it's just a bit of bullshit."

The others laughed, and mocked Kowalski.

"Okay, Team, let's get started. Since Flag is off base, you get to choose amongst yourselves who is your CO (Commanding Officer) stand in." Lieutenant General Blackburn walked in, and took in a deep breath.

"I hope you practiced your Alpha One's Taylor," Spenser joked and Taylor rolled his eyes. "Eeeelfah woooooon," Spenser laughed, mocking Taylor's Texan accent.

Taylor shook his fist across the table at Spenser, who merely laughed harder.

"Okay, that's enough." Blackburn turned to a woman walking through the door.

"Ellis has the intel." He handed the woman the remote.

"Good morning team. I trust you have all had a nice week off," she started, giving me a smile. "Kowalski and Chapman, that's great. Nice to put faces to the names. Welcome to Alpha Dogs."

I nodded, and waited for the brief. This was Nicole Ellis, the tactical officer we spoke to over the comms for our intel. She was short and lean, looked more like a magazine model than a logistics expert. She had a beautiful figure, the kind that made every girl around her take a hit on her self-esteem just by being in the same room. Her long black hair was tied up in a thick bush.

"You're looking at an abandoned hospital just out of Al-Hool in north-eastern Syria." Ellis held the projector remote over her shoulder casually as she flicked the projector to a satellite image.

"Wait a minute," Kowalski interrupted, smiling. "I'm sorry, but there are a lot of tyre tracks around there for it to be an abandoned hospital… just saying." He sniggered.

The woman rolled her eyes and continued. "We believe the Syrian army are using it as a bio-weapons factory."

"Aren't they supposed to be using the mobile labs by now?" Spenser said seriously, though I could see him trying to hide a smile.

"I'd like to introduce Doctor Lucian from our chem-bio desk," she added.

"Oh no, _Doctor Death_ ," Taylor droned sarcastically, stroking is beard.

A Japanese man stood inside the door and made his way to the front, pointing at the projector image on the wall. "Hi, everybody," he spoke perfect English. Although he wasn't wearing a lab coat and glasses like I imagined a scientist would, he still looked like a respected professional. "Our recent success identifying and destroying mobile labs, has convinced them to go back to using static sites."

"And they're choosing hospitals, because they think we're afraid to bomb, right?" I skipped ahead, eager to know where this was going. I was never patient during briefs.

"Yes. The D.O.D (Department of Defence) won't authorise a strike without definitive proof that the site is being used for chemical weapons production." Dr Lucian added.

"And what does the Department of Defence consider definitive proof?" I asked, flipping a pen with my fingers as I leaned over a pad on the desk.

The woman looked down at me, crossed arms. "Physical evidence."

"Samples?" Kowalski concluded.

"Gets better," the woman turned back to the projector screen.

Dr Lucian grabbed the remote and flicked the next screen. "So our satellite passes every seven hours which traverses the area for twelve seconds and takes six photos."

The projector map of the hospital didn't change, but brown spots emerged on the screen, and multiplied each time he clicked the button. "Three passes ago, it took these."

"Those black shapes are?" Taylor frowned.

"Dead cattle." The woman confirmed proudly, crossing her arms again.

"Wow, they're definitely had a leak, didn't they?" Kowalski mumbled.

The woman began to pace around the desk, watching us as we all examined the photos. "Heavy fighting in the area lasted a few days, we believe an errant shell hit the stockpile."

"When does access close?" A note in Kowalski's voice suggested he was in.

"We'll be monitoring the Syrian troop movements the best we can. Get ya in and out in a hurry." Blackburn was looking at Kowalski with a reassuring nod.

"How big is the guard force?" Hayes added.

"So far we reconned a single six man unit." Dr Lucian replied.

"You're tellin' me they got a chemical weapon in this factory and there's only six guys guarding it?" Taylor could barely believe what he heard.

"Yeah, unless they were missed by the satellite analysts? If it not for the cows, they'd never have found the place."

"Best guess what they're making?" I asked.

"Based on the regime's history, Zerine, or VX." The woman sighed.

My eyes flicked down to her ID card hanging from the lanyard around her neck.

"One of those is the bad one, right?" Spenser urged.

Dr Lucian looked uncomfortable, but stood forward. "Ah, Zerine, is pretty nasty stuff, a bucket full of it would kill every man woman and child on the planet. But you're probably thinking about VX. It's widely regarded as the most dangerous substance man's ever created."

"So we're actually gonna have to handle this stuff?" Taylor forward in his chair with interest.

Blackburn nodded at Taylor. "I trust you all to decide the team leader. Good luck." He got up and abruptly left.

"Right. Who says you never take us anywhere nice?" Perry scoffed.

Hayes nodded, looking at Taylor. "You up?"

"Nuh-uh." Taylor answered. "I got no commanding skills."

Kowalski chuckled. "No one is touching it? Seriously?"

"You do it then," Taylor sneered.

Kowalski shook his head. "Not me, but Chapman has run a few ops in green team."

They all turned to look at me, surprised.

My eyebrows shot up. "What?"

Taylor nodded. "Yeah, let's see what Nurse Joy can do. Be a shame if Flag couldn't keep his job…"

"Knock it off," Perry snapped.

Kowalski shrugged his shoulders. "No one wants the job? Really?" He looked back at me, hopeful. "Come on, Trig, take one for the team."

"Fine."

Taylor clapped his hands in obvious relief. "Thank you, Jesus."

The beginning of a new op did not give me the pleasure it seemed to give the other SEALs. Actually, I felt nervous to the point of nausea whenever I thought of it. I tried to _not_ think of it.

But it was hard to escape such an omnipresent topic as commanding a team of Tier One operators on a real op. No drill. This was the real thing, with real consequences.

I was determined not to let the other know how nervous I really was about it. My thoughts flashed to Flag, mimicking his way of thinking.

"Look, we can't even get a drone up? I gonna assume we can't helo in." I stood up to get an unnecessary close up on the projector.

Kowalski slapped the table, triumphant. Kowalski had to be the happiest man in the room, glad that his best friend has stepped up to take lead. If he thought he was going to get the easy jobs, he had me mistaken.

The others seemed to be happy they didn't have to fill the Colonel's shoes.

"Russians are threatening to shoot down anything that crosses the Syrian air space." Nicole replied.

We fell silent, trying to think of another way in.

I crossed my arms thoughtfully. Planes and vehicles would be visible by drones. So we needed to get around the drone… or above it…

Finally, I found an idea. "We jump in. Hey-ho,"

"Oh yeah, Hey-ho," Kowalski jumped to his feet in excitement. "We bail out in Iraqi air space then fly to the target under cam."

Taylor laughed. "Look at the rookies, taking on asymmetrical warfare."

"That's too many syllables for you." I replied with a grin, turning back to Ellis. "That's right. The problem is getting out," I turned and paced, staring at the floor as if it had all the answers.

"How far to the boarder?" Kowalski asked.

Nicole looked over her shoulder at him. "Eighteen kilometres."

"What's the nearest QRF (Quick Reaction Force)?" I added.

"Special forces ODA (Operational Detachment Alphas) are working at the boarder." Nicole smiled.

"Have them standing by, we clear the target, they come in and pick us up. Boom." I looked over at Kowalski and nodded with a devious grin.

"The Russians are seen in the border area right? The D.O.D would never authorise any ground movement with the possibility of Russian contact." Perry leaned against the wall, arms folded.

"D.O.D has no balls," Taylor got out of chair and mumbled something slurred.

Nicole stared at me from over the table. "We could get you local vehicles."

"How many?" Kowalski had a flare for intel.

"I couldn't count on more than two or three?" she guessed.

I held up three fingers and frowned. "Three?" I whispered. "It could work if we keep our numbers small. How many SMATs (Supply Maintenance Assistance Team)?" I pointed at Nicole.

"You have one EOD (Explosive Ordnance Disposal) for the contamination."

Kowalski nodded. "So that's all we need?"

"And him." Nicole pointed at Dr. Lucian, who stood quietly in the corner.

Everyone in the room turned to look at him.

"What?" Hayes spluttered.

"It's not my idea, I assure you." Dr. Lucian protested.

"Another contribution from the good idea fairies that sent you." Taylor threw a handful of peanuts in his mouth and looked at me, cynically.

Nicole sighed. "We still have no idea if that factory is actively contaminated."

"Why, the Syrians didn't clean it first?" Taylor sniggered.

"As far as we can tell, they pulled their scientists out," The Doctor made a quote hand signal as he spoke. "And locked the place down. So they could pacify the area."

We looked at each other dubiously.

"I'm on point." Spenser declared suddenly.

"Hell no, you're not." Kowalski argued.

"I'm on point," Spenser repeated.

Taylor leaned back in his chair comfortable and satisfied while observing the debate.

" _I'm_ on point," Kowalski growled.


	6. Chapter 6 Desperate measures

AL-HOOL, SYRIA

"Since we are the only tandem, we're gonna go first." Taylor stood behind Dr. Lucian, who was dressed in the Seal camo uniform, and skydiving helmet. He was shaking and terrified. My guess is he hadn't done this before.

"When this ramp opens up," he pushed Dr. Lucian forward, taking tiny steps. "We're gonna shuffle forward like this, okay, almost to the edge," they stopped before the ramp began. "Then, I will tap your shoulder twice." He tapped Dr. Lucian's trembling shoulders firmly, probably a bit harder than he would of a trained strap. "Tap, Tap. Alright, lean forward and gravity gon' take you from there."

Dr. Lucian nodded.

"Doc, stay with me." Taylor grabbed an oxygen mask and pulled out the head strap.

"What's that?" The Doctor asked.

"Oxygen."

Dr. Lucian looked down at the mask he was holding. "I thought this was the oxygen?"

"Noooo, this is for pre-breathing. It's gonna give you a base before you jump. Okay, look, we are jumping almost two miles higher than the top of Mount Everest, right? You don't pre-breathe, you run the risk of passing out, which means you lose body position, and you start to spin, and that chute there is gon' wrap around you tighter than a cigarette roll."

Dr. Lucian looked away, almost panicked.

An entertained smile swept across my face, knowing Taylor was deliberately making him nervous.

"Hey, hey, look at me." Taylor said firmly. "Relax. Silver lining. If that were to happen to us, both you and I are gonna be unconscious when we burn in. Okay? That's a good thing." He gave the Doctor a reassuring slap on the arm and went to prepare his chute.

"I hope we can pull this off," I mumbled to Kowalski, who sat beside me calmly. When you've done as many missions we have, you had done this hundreds of times in training, and only several times in the real. By now, it came naturally, and the fear was stripped from us.

"Don't worry, we got it all planned out. Just don't let those guys do anything stupid like get contaminated."

"Let's do this," Dr Lucian shouted bravely, putting this mask back on.

I giggled to myself. Hell was going to break lose, I was excited for it. My first real mission leading a unit. Mine. Not Flag's, mine. I was the only one these men could turn to for orders. I had led convoys before, and small unit under order of a higher officer, but never had I been the sole commanding officer.

Twenty hours in, most of us had been awake only a few hours, pre-breathing with masks on.

The pilot came wandering in the cabin from the pit, and made a circle motion with his hand. Time to move.

I turned off the oxygen and removed my mask, standing up to address the men. I made the same signal with my hand, index finger pointed to the roof. "Let's go, line up."

We all began to strap on our holsters and put the chute harnesses on, the other men woke to attention and got started as well.

Dressed in desert camo fatigues, with Kevlar vests and helmets, and about fifty pounds of equipment and ammo strapped our load-bearing harnesses. We all had night vision goggles and leather gloves. None of it made us look the slightest bit bulky, but extremely intimidating.

Our team was the picture of American machismo with combat boots and 9mm pistol strapped to a shoulder holster and that 'living by the sword' attitude. That made us the least known, important officers in America. Our experience combined with the level of danger involved meant this mission demanded a low threshold for bullshit.

The lights around us turned red, and the alarm sounded, making the Doctor look around desperately, trying to figure out what was happening.

We strapped on our helmets, turned on our NV goggles, and high-fived each other, ready for anything. This close-knit team was going to have fun on the way down, in the dark. Not many of us could say we'd done it all.

We all held up our hands, signalling to wait for the ramp as it creaked and jarred open.

Taylor and the Doctor were strapped together, Taylor was going to lead us out. "You okay, Doc?"

"Yeah, everything's great," he placed his hand on Taylor's shoulder.

"You're gonna be fine." Taylor knew what he was doing. He leaned forward slightly, and gravity sucked them out of the plane.

We each stepped out, one at a time, until finally, they were all speeding towards the ground. I took last place, spreading out like a starfish. I jumped with an eager leap, my neck camera flapping against my chin as the air rushed toward me.

For what seemed like a long time, the humming of the plane engines was replaced with an eerie gush past my ears, forcing a strange silence. You could shout all the earth's profanities at your neighbour, and he wouldn't hear a thing.

My vision was green through the NV (Night Vision), and I looked up as the pulled the chute. It flapped in the wind as the air grew thicker around us.

We were closing in on the target at an alarming speed- but it was the only way to get in- a helicopter or plane alike would have been too low and gotten detected by the Russians. Another stealth mission to be proud of.

I began to sail down gently, rather than speed toward the ground. The sail made me spiral around in a circle like a long slide, smooth and quick.

Finally, we made it outside Al-Hool hospital, Syria.

With chutes unharnessed, all eight men were accounted for.

I lifted my NV's up over my helmet at look at the Doctor, who was a little shaken up. But he was taking out an M50 gas mask. "Hey, I take it these things are breathable, or it would defeat its purpose. You okay?"

He had no NV's on, but I think he took relief knowing I was there. "So I'm a little nervous about walking into a building full of spilt nerve agent, I guess I'm in the wrong line of work, right?" He laughed nervously.

"You're gonna be okay." I reassured him. The last thing we needed was a panicked scientist.

"Tac, this is Alpha One, we're at the target, we're about to engage, you copy?" I talked into the mic attached to my helmet. I aimed my rifle in front of me, and panned the area through the scope, finding two black shadows, moving slowly. "Got two guys outside the hospital."

"Good copy Alpha One." Nicole replied through my earpiece.

"Any sign of our Syrian friends?" I asked. The Tacticians had every available technology at their fingertips, including the active surveillance. They were our eyes.

"Negative, Alpha One, they're still engaged with the NSA (National Security Agency) about twenty klicks (kilometers) out."

"Copy that." The radio hashed, and I put the NV's back on, turning to Kowalski, nodding.

We ducked behind a stone wall, and aimed our rifles at the shadows, moving quietly behind the wreck of a truck. "Left." I said quietly, aiming for a headshot. I followed the white dot to the head of the soldier, manning a turret gun. Kowalski followed suit with the other man.

"Three, two, one." We pulled the trigger in unison, taking out the two soldiers with a quick _snap_ like cracking a stick of dry hickory.

We crawled along the wall, and took the door way out into the open, the other six men in tow.

Our training taught us to walk quickly and silently, so much so I could hear my on pulse thumping, and my breath in my ears. Kowalski led, and I followed close behind.

The Doctor kept his hand on Taylor's shoulder the whole time, not being able to see in the darkness without night vision goggles like the rest of us. Even if he had a set, he wouldn't know how to use them. It was best that he couldn't see we were killing people.

The team crept through a maze of crumbled walls, and around a flipped over truck, and took cover behind the truck, surveying the hospital entranceway. We stood there, waiting for the others to catch up. We moved on, coming up to a large metal door.

Taylor held a device to the door, scanning it. The device beeped slowly, then gave a final high pitched beep. Taylor's thumb went up.

Kowalski took out a pair of bolt cutters from his pack, and cut the chain looped around the door handles. He stood back as I opened one of the doors.

Taylor went in first, followed by the others, then finally, Kowalski and me.

We were led down a series of hallways and trough empty lobbies, the place was a maze. We kept our cross hairs tight, and we took down three men standing in a large waiting room.

Spenser took down another down a hall, and then another.

We crept down a narrow set of stairs and found the lab door. Taylor scanned this door too, the device beeping quickly this time. It gave a final beep, and Taylor gave us the thumbs down. To be expected, the chemical had leaked and we all put on our gas masks.

I kicked the door open, and Kowalski and I instinctively crossed our line of sights as we entered. I pushed through first. "I got this, Mike."

He held up his rifle, and waited for me to pass before following me in.

Down another set of gloomy stairs, was the lab. Trashed. Large barrels had been tipped over, glass beakers shattered across the tables. With the gas masks on, I wasn't able to see through the NV's, but a found a switch and turned on two single lights, illuminating the bunker.

We scanned the room, walking slowly, and cautiously.

"This place took a hit," Taylor said.

"Clear." I replied. "Alright, Doc, you're up."

The doctor came through the room, and began to look around. "Looks like the shelling tore up the stock pile. I gotta swab the apparatus now for samples."

"What's that do to the timeline?" I asked.

"Nothing good," He shook his head. His eyes looked serious from behind the mask.

"Let's go, Doc you gotta move." Taylor urged. "Let's go."

The doctor nodded and began his swab.

Kowalski and I headed back up the step and closed the metal door, enabling us to take off our masks.

"You mind telling me what the hell that was about?"

I ignored him and activated the comms. "Tac, this is Alpha One, we secured the lab. Doc's gonna start collecting samples."

"Roger, Alpha One we'll get those vehicles in place for your extraction. Be advised, the last satellite pass showed a change in the status of the engagement to your east. The Russian forces were trying it, and the Syrian army are not pursuing. Guys, if they turn and move in on you, you'll have maybe twenty minutes to get out of there before you're boxed in."

"Copy that, Tac, we'll be in and long gone by then."

"This is Alpha Four, Boss, we need you up on second deck." It was Hayes, who stayed in the lobby to recon.

"Copy." I replied. We made our way to him, finding a long hall littered with the bodies of Syrian soldiers. We entered a room with coughing patients, dotted around the room on gurneys and seats.

One young boy saw me and talked to me in his language which I couldn't understand. He reached out for me.

I crouched down to him and brushed the hair from his eyes. "You're okay," I whispered. "You'll be okay." I looked up, and scanned the rest of the sick people, as they looked at us desperately.

Hayes was checking the status of the boy, as I walked over to Kowalski, who was helping a weakened woman onto a gurney.

"Alright as far as I can tell, they're saying that the regime cut the village from the IS (Armed forced of the counrty). They rounded them up, took the men to join the fight, including this boys Dad."

"Yeah, this woman's husband, too." Perry replied.

I looked at Hayes. "How's he doing?"

Hayes shook his head. "His whole system is compromised. His throat muscles… he's gonna drown in his own spit."

"How much Atropine you give him?"

"Two viles."

I took out one from my vest and handed it to him. "Okay, make it three."

Hayes frowned. "You sure? You might wanna hang onto that in case you're exposed."

I poked Hayes' shoulder with the vile. "I said, make it three. Got a head count?"

"Twenty three total, seven kids."

Kowalski sighed impatiently.

"Have they all been exposed?" I asked, looking back at the patients.

"Gotta assume so."

"Can we save 'em?"

Hayes looked doubtful. "Maybe. But I mean we gotta get them fully deconned into a trauma site, even then,"

"Do have idea what agent they've been exposed to?" Kowalski asked.

I shrugged. "I gotta assume what Doc gets from the lab, it's VX."

"How long is it gonna take to decon?" Hayes asked. He hadn't finished his medic training, in fact, it should have been me doing his job.

"About ten minutes each, a little less for the kids, because they got a lower surface area."

Hayes sighed, not happy with the situation.

I frowned. "Look, get at it, okay Hayes, the sun rises in five hours and when that happens, I wanna be somewhere else."

"Roger that." Hayes confirmed.

I put my mask back on as I headed back to the lab, Kowalski in tow.

"You know we intervened the VX right?" Kowalski said confidently.

"What?" I replied.

Kowalski raised his eyebrows. "Yeah. Well actually, it'll be fair the Brits did it first. But they did it by mistake and as soon as they realised how toxic it was, they stopped makin' it. A few years later the US Army starts mass production. We're the good guys, right?"

"You know what, we are the good guys, because we're not actually using this stuff."

Kowalski fell silent. "We got two local cars, Trig, how we gonna get all these people outta here?"

I put my hand on his shoulder. "That's my next call."

Taylor got out of the seat by the window, and let me take the next watch. He leaned against the wall. "We're here until the sun comes up?"

I nodded. "Yeah." I put my NV's back on. And gazed out the window, looking for any movement. "The Syrians are about twenty klicks away and we have four hours until the sun comes up. Before then, I need you frosty. Take a nap."

"So we're waiting on a ride for the people downstairs, huh?" He added.

I wasn't going to respond. He wasn't the one to make the call. Taylor was the first one to pass the job up.

"I'd put the shooters we have here with us against any other shooters in the world, Trig, but that doesn't mean we could hold off an army."

I sighed and put my NV's up. "Look, you do know what happens. We leave those people downstairs, right?" I shifted in my chair to look at him.

"I know whatever happens, it's been decided a long time ago."

"Not their fault, they didn't ask to be born."

Taylor scoffed. "It's not ours, either." He strolled closer. "You know you gotta be real careful, deciding what's best for somebody else's life. Do say we pull them out. Hand them off to civil affairs, and then what?" Taylor wasn't the most compassionate person I'd worked with. He had little interest in the civvies tangled up in our missions. "Ain't no one patriating in a war zone, with any luck they'll end up in Europe, might assume that the borders aren't shut down then. And if not, they _will_ spend the rest of their lives in a refugee camp."

I sneered. "You say that to those kids faces downstairs."

"I ain't gonna look at their faces."

I looked back out the window.

"You know we got a lot of wolves in this world. And the sheepdog's got his hands full tryin' to keep his own flock safe. Got no vigilance left for anyone else. Flag wouldn't save those people."

I looked back at him, angry. "I gotta whole lot on honour in that. And Flag would have saved those people, as arrogant as he is may be. This is my mission, you do as ordered, no questions asked."

"It is what it is," He said as the final word, as he took his pack and left the room. I shook my head in disgust and put the NV's back down as I continued watch.

"Just finishing up," Kowalski broke the silence as he marched up to the adjacent window. "Once we load up the civvies, the EOD is gonna start setting up charges. You ready to tell me what happened down stairs?"

Here we go. Kowalski was next in line to roast me. I wanted a clean mission, but it was never going to happen was it?

"When?" I asked, playing dumb.

"Team leader is never first through the door, Trig." He glared at me expecting a palpable answer.

I didn't have one.

"I'm trying to make sure we get back home in once piece." Kowalski threw an accusing look at me, as though he thought we weren't making it out.

"Alpha One, this is Tac,"

"Something like that," I grunted. "Go for Alpha One," I said lazily into the comm while Kowalski stared down at me angrily.

"Listen we made our case, and I told the Captain to authorise you to move the civilians out but I was overruled. Alpha One, your mission objective remain unchanged. Collect the samples, destroy and stockpiles and infrastructure and extract any allied personnel. Is that clear?" It was Blackburn's voice on the other end, instead of Ellis.

I blinked hard and sighed. "So we're just gonna leave these people here to die?"

"They're not gonna be any worse off if we hadn't shown up." Blackburn replied. "I know it sucks, but I've been on the net for hours and nobody is going to authorise for American military to cross that border."

"Look, you're trying to tell me that the Green Berets get a tick call that the D.O.D's not going to let them respond?"

"You just answered that for certain. We'd have to have troops in contact with them. Do we have troops in contact?" Blackburn replied.

I grinned at Kowalski. "Not yet,"

All seven men were standing in front of me, waiting for orders.

"So, we completed the mission. As your ground commander, the only lawful order I give right now is to make exfil. But I'm not going to give that order. I'm also not going to give the order the stay."

Taylor looked confused as he glared at me. As did the other six men.

"So if anybody wants to leave, you get in those cars downstairs and make a direct straight for the border. I'm sure it'll be a nice Sunday drive by then. The rest of us are going to stronghold this position against a very large enemy coming our way. I expect, once we're engaged, the Green Berets at Sinjar will respond to our tick. Otherwise if they don't, pretty sure we'll be overrun." I looked at their calm faces, hoping they would trust me enough to follow my lead. No way was I going to leave those people downstairs to suffer. Even if we had to die to protect them. It was a fifty-fifty chance of not making it out, and my men knew that. I looked at their faces, one-by-one, and searched for anyone who was going to ankle.

But even Taylor didn't say anything.

"You don't think we became Frogmen (Navy Seals) because we didn't secretly all want to be Batman? Come on now." Kowalski sniggered.

We all chuckled uncomfortably, for we knew we were all in for rough day. We all turned to the doctor, who stood in the door way with a hand over his mouth.

"Well you guys wouldn't miss me in the fight, let's be honest. Or else, you wouldn't send me alone. So instead of having eight here to hold off the descending hordes of bad guys you're down to what? Six, maybe five? So either of you all don't know, for having to go through the rest of my life haunted by your faces, not to mention those poor souls behind us is literally a fate worse than death. I also don't want to find out so I'm staying." He said bravely, knowing we were the best of the best, and we wanted part of that, too.

They all stared at him, in shock, unbelieving of what speech Dr Lucian had just made.

"Okay, so let's do this. Two shooters on the roof." I broke the awkward silence with my next order. "Three down below. Let's get everybody away from the windows inside, alright?" I stood in front of Spenser. "Hey, how long is it going to take you and EOD to wire up that lab?"

"Twenty minutes maybe."

"Okay, let's get on it, move." My firm voice was reassuring to the Seals who would normally take commands from a higher ground officer, but I was it. I think they took comfort in my strict leadership. Everything was going to go to hell, and I was looking forward to it. An easy mission wasn't going to satisfy me.

"You didn't really expect anybody to take you up on that offer did ya?" Kowalski smiled.

I grinned back. "No, I was fifty-fifty on the Doc, to quite honest with you." We laughed.

"Alpha One, this is Tac. We have a sighting on eastside. You got a mass enemy on the move towards your position. Estimate they could be less than thirty minutes out." Nicole's voice was rushed, telling me she was beginning to worry.

"How many mass enemy are we talking about?" I asked into the comm.

"Too many." She replied.


	7. Chapter 7 Not as arrogant as you seem

"I just _love_ that feeling when I'm about to be shot at," Taylor whined.

"Is there anywhere else you'd like to be?" I put my chin up and frowned at him. I wasn't in the mood for his negativity right now.

"Hell no." he laughed.

"Alpha One, this is EOD. The last of the wires are set up. You wanna double check this lab for anything you need, cos it'll blow the entire wing of this building." Spenser's voice sounded mechanical over the comm.

"Copy, can you wait one," I clicked off and turned to the Doctor. "Hey, Doctor Death, Lucy. You got everything you need?"

"To prove the regime was making nerve agent?" He replied.

"Yeah," I breathed.

Dr Lucian nodded. "Absolutely. I collected enough to poison half the country. This was some leak. I'm amazed they're not all dead considering what they must have taken into their bodies. Guess they got lucky."

I looked at him in wonder. How could anything man-made be more deadly that what we had seen?

I stared at the civilians hunkered down in the hallway, waiting for an attack.

Kowalski looked at me and strode over.

"Let me ask you, do you think the Syrians cleaned their equipment right?" I asked.

Kowalski frowned. "I guess so, I didn't think about it much."

"Yeah, why wouldn't they, after creating the most toxic stuff known to _man_ ," I emphasised on the man part.

"Yeah, so?"

I pushed the button on my comm. "Tac, this is Alpha One, we have a problem."

Kowalski looked at me confused.

"Our chem guy is saying that the samples he's collected are not going to test positive for a banned agent. He's thinking they're possibly diluted. Please advise?" I spoke into the comm, waiting for a reply. And hopefully a resolution.

"Stand by, Alpha One."

"Yes ma'am, standing by."

Kowalski was still confused. "They need evidence this place laced with poison and if we can't bring them the samples, then-"

"They're evidence." I pointed to the civilians.

Kowalski grinned. "Oh, that's good stuff, Trig. Nice." He shared a fist bump while we waited for the authorisation.

"Alpha One, good to go."

"Great, how many vehicles is he sending?" I asked.

"You will have enough. Tac out." She clicked off.

I breathed a sigh of relief. It was go time. "Alright, convoy is inbound, which means we need to get everyone there, out and ready to travel." I shouted to my men who began frantically to gather their gear. "The enemy is two kilometres out, which mean, hey-multiple vehicles. We gotta move now! Now!"

We all scrambled to get the people out of the hall way and out to the courtyard, to await the vehicles.

The sun was shining brightly outside, meaning we were out of time. Carefully rushing them outside, the convoy was screeching to a halt by the door.

One-by-one the patients were crowded onto two of three gun trucks, sent by the Green Berets.

"Hurry, hurry, Move, move!" I slapped the back of my hand a few times, and swung my rifle around my shoulder and climbed into to the truck where the young boy had been carried in.

I grabbed him and put him down in my lap, ready to go.

"Alpha One, we have Syrian troops on the edge of town and advancing." The comms chattered as the last of the women were being loaded into the truck, and the Seals jumped in.

There was a blast just a few meters away, penetrating the hospital's outer wall.

More RPG's fired at us as the trucked lurched forward and sped off down the narrow street.

There was just too much shooting from all directions for me to sort out what was going on. Bullets were zinging around us and RPGs (Rocket Propelled Grenade) had started to fly. I could see a cloud of smoke and a flash and then track the fat arc of a grenade as it rocketed home. Brass shell casings were piling up around the man in the turret.

I looked over my shoulder at the Humvee following us, sand being blasted over it. I looked over at Spenser, who aimed his gun outside, but no ground troops to fire on. "Blow it! Blow it!" I shouted.

He looked back to me and nodded. He screamed _Fire in the hole!_ Before pushing the button on his remote.

Taylor smiled widely. He loved this part. We all watched at the hospital behind us to see a massive explosion of stone, sand and fire.

As we emerged out of the street, we passed several solders firing on us and the men in the turrets above the trucks began to fire back.

I held the boy's head in my hands and covered his ears as the massive 50cal fired, deafening us.

Finally, we were out of the town and on our way to the border. The gun fire stopped, and I looked down at the boy, who had stopped breathing. I shook him gently, waiting for a response, even just a little rise and fall of his chest, but nothing.

He lay limp on my lap as I wiped the stress from my eyes in disappointment.

We were too late for him.

I found myself looking at Kowalski, who watched me with sorry eyes.

WASHINGTON D.C

They were laughing. Flag, Taylor and Perry all had their hair entirely saturated with rain. Spenser and Hayes were leaning away as Taylor shook his dripping

hair toward them.

They were enjoying the rainy day, just like everyone else — only they looked more like a scene from a movie than the rest of us.

But, aside from the laughter and playfulness, there was something different, and I couldn't quite pinpoint what that difference was.

I examined Flag the most carefully. His skin was less pale, I decided — flushed from the rain maybe — the circles under his eyes much less noticeable.

But there was something more.

I pondered, staring, trying to isolate the change.

Other than the clean shaven face, he looked…better.

"Trig, what are you staring at?" Kowalski intruded, his eyes following my stare.

At that precise moment, Flag's eyes flashed over to meet mine.

I dropped my head, letting my hair fall to conceal my face. I was sure, though, in the instant our eyes met, that he didn't look punitive or hostile as he usually did.

He looked merely curious, unsatisfied in some way.

"Colonel is staring at you," Kowalski chuckled in my ear.

"He doesn't look angry, does he?" I couldn't help asking.

"No," he said, sounding confused by my question. "Should he be?"

"I don't think he likes me," I confided. I felt queasy. I put my head down on my arm.

"He doesn't like anyone, remember? How can he not like you after the shit you pulled in Syria? He's still staring at you, actually."

"Stop looking at him," I hissed.

He snickered, but he looked away. I raised my head enough to make sure that he did, contemplating carnage if he resisted.

Hayes interrupted us then — he was planning an epic battle of the paintball in the range after fitness training and wanted us to join.

Kowalski agreed un-enthusiastically.

The way he looked at Hayes left little doubt that he would be up for anything he suggested.

I kept silent. I would have to hide in the gym until the range cleared.

For the rest of the lunch hour I very carefully kept my eyes at my own table.

I decided to honour the bargain I'd made with myself. Since he didn't look angry, I would go to medical. My stomach did frightened little flips at the thought of sitting near to him again.

I didn't really want to walk to the barracks with Hayes as usual — he seemed to be a popular target for the paintball snipers — but when we went to the door, everyone besides me groaned in unison. It was still raining.

I pulled my hood up, secretly pleased. I would be free to go straight to the gym after all.

I grinned to myself as I made my way to my bunker, and thought perhaps everyone else had their own jobs to do.

Hayes kept up a string of complaints on the way to building four.

Once inside the medical room, I saw with relief that my room was still empty.

I kept my eyes away from the door, doodling idly on the cover of my notebook while trying to come up with topics for my next email to my brother, Andy.

I heard very clearly when the chair next to me moved, but my eyes stayed carefully focused on the pattern I was drawing.

"Hello," said a quiet, musical voice.

I looked up, stunned that he was speaking to me. He was sitting as far away from me as the desk allowed, but his chair was angled toward me. His hair was dripping wet, disheveled — even so, he looked like he'd just finished shooting a commercial for hair gel. His dazzling face was friendly, open, a slight smile on his lips.

But his eyes were careful.

"You can call me Rick," he continued. "I should have introduced myself properly."

My mind was spinning with confusion. Had I made up the whole thing? He was perfectly polite now.

I had to speak; he was waiting. But I couldn't think of anything conventional to say.

"Let's get started then," I suggested, taking out his file.

"Oh, I'm not here for that." He looked down at the card folder in my hand.

I felt my eyebrows pinch. "Oh. You want to talk some more?"

He nodded slightly. "I was rude to you before. And I'm sorry."

My eyes widened, and I put my hand to my ear in response. "What did you say?"

Flag grinned. "I don't think anyone said anything,"

I scoffed. "So you heard about Syria then?" I bowed my head, feeling my face burn.

He nodded again, but kept his eyes on me. "Yeah."

"Look, I had to make a call, and no one else wanted to that the job."

"Mmm-hmm," he hummed. "Look, the way I see it, you made a legal call. You also saved twenty three lives."

"Twenty two." I corrected. "One didn't make it."

"Right." He replied. "But you saved them. If it were me, I would have left them."

I shook my head. "No, you wouldn't."

He looked surprised.

I looked away awkwardly. "So how was your time away? You come back a box of fluffies, sir."

"I uh, went to visit my mother and sisters." He peeked at me sideways.

"That's great. Looks like it helped you." I put his folder away on the shelf with the others, satisfied it didn't need it.

Flag sighed. "Trig, you did a great job while I was away. You earned the trust of the team."

"Well, what about you?" I asked.

"Huh?"

I scoffed. "What about your trust? Seems impossible to meet your standards."

"Oh, I have standards. Just a shame I can't reach them myself."

My head tilted sideways. "Don't be so hard on yourself. We trust you-"

He looked at me, skeptical.

"Enough," I looked up to see him smiling a crooked smile so beautiful that I could only stare at him like an idiot.

"You did a great job, and I should be thanking you. I was supposed to be there." His smile faded.

I shrugged. "Work experience,"

He nodded. "Sure. Have you thought about doing the CO exam? You would be a very valuable asset to the DEVGRU's."

I swallowed hard, surprised. "N-no, I haven't."

"You should. Good leadership is hard to come by." He unleashed the full, devastating power of his eyes on me, as if trying to communicate something crucial.

"Think about it." He added.

I nodded slowly. "Okay, I will."

"It seems the team have accepted you, and that's a good thing. You have achieved more in one op than I have in nine years." He laughed without humour.

"You've been in Alpha Dogs for that long?" I asked, in complete awe.

I found it hard to believe the words that fell out of his mouth. Two reasons.

One: He didn't look old enough to be even a Colonel.

Two: How does one act the way Flag does, and not having any friends in the team?

Nine years was a long time to be wallowing in self-pity and hatred for everyone and everything.

This changed things.

The corners of his lips tugged upwards slightly. "Yes," he replied bluntly. "Well, the Alpha Dogs you know of today haven't been around that long, so they don't know that. Shhh." He enunciated every syllable, as if he were talking to someone mentally handicapped, then let out a coy laugh, his eyes were wickedly amused.

"Okay, well, it seems you no longer need my assistance." I sighed, looking down at my desk when his eyes released mine.

"I'll leave you to it, but I just wanted to say thank you. What you said last time was a wake- up call." he explained. "But I'd like to buy you a beer sometime. I like you, Major Jaz Chapman."

His eyes were gloriously intense as he uttered that last sentence, his voice smouldering. I couldn't remember how to breathe.

Blackburn burst into the room without knocking, forcing us to rip our eyes from each other. "Am I interrupting?" He panted.

"Oh please…interrupt." Flag droned with heavy sarcasm. His arrogant self was back in that instant.

Blackburn ignored the snide comment. "We have time sensitive information, and we need the team on the ground."

We both stood up at the same time, and followed Blackburn to the situation room.


	8. Chapter 8 No time for goodbye

AFGHANISTAN

"Feeling awful exposed out here in the daylight like this, boss." Kowalski sounded spooked as he crouched behind me.

Fifty six miles out from Kandahar, was nothing abut mountains of desert. No roads, no villages.

We had flown in on Black Hawk _Mortem One_ , out here under the hot sun in our desert fatigues with floppy camouflage sun hats on. We were like a bunch of overgrown kids playing soldier... with real bullets and grenades.

We were in Afghanistan, not behind some desk or cash register or sitting in the cafeteria staring out the window across a sleepy barracks. We did things like jump out of airplanes, fast-rope out of helicopters, rappel down cliffs... stuff like what we were doing over here, doing good, chasing around an exotic Third World capital after a murderous warlord.

Our team was bearing south on foot, heading toward the back end of the target house and toward a the dusty road we'd come in on. At least I thought that was where we were headed.

Most of the scenery of Afghanistan looked the same, rutted orange sand with big gouges in the middle and treacherous mounds of debris, shabbily mortared stone walls on both sides, stubby olive trees and cactus bushes and crisscrossing the sandy terrain.

Now there was just that musky stink of Afghanistan, the trace of desert dust in the air, and the slight aftertaste of diesel from the chopper in our mouths.

"Tac, this is Alpha One. We're passing Lincoln." Flag said into the comms. Kowalski was right. It felt wrong operating without the cover of darkness.

"Copy, Alpha One. Enjoy the hike." Blackburn replied.

I signalled for Kowalski to take point, and I fell in behind Hayes and Spenser.

"Last man." I grunted, taking the rear position.

"No movement at the target house, boss." Kowalski informed, looking through his binoculars.

"Maybe Ghani's a late riser." Hayes assumed, crouched beside Flag.

"Yeah, he's probably the real Bohemian type." Taylor droned.

I grumbled irritably.

"Cut the chatter, all right? Move it." Flag signaled forward, and each man sneaked through the tall crunchy dead weed across the desert. The shack was in sight, but maybe Hayes was right.

Every step, we took with caution, not taking our eyes off the target building. Flag sped ahead of me, blocking me from the first sight. Kowalski took the lead, and slowed dramatically.

What I saw and heard was a flash of light and a violent crack. I stood and took one step forward and heard the _whooosh_ of a second missile. There was another flash and explosion. I was thrown to the ground. Thick dust flew into our faces as we dropped to the ground.

"Contact front! Contact front! Move it!" Flag yelled. "Kowalski, where'd that come from?"

"Mortar team, northeast corner of the target building!" he yelled over his shoulder.

You would think bullets flying past would command your attention, but I'd been too preoccupied to notice.

Now I did. Passing bullets made a loud snap. As big a target as I made, I figured he'd better find some cover.

"Perry! Push left, after that mortar team!" I shouted over the rattle of gunfire, and the patter of missed bullets arounds us.

"Not happening right now!" Perry replied, crawling into a grassy patch for cover.

I rolled over slowly into a nearby ditch just feet away, and pulled myself into a crouch.

There was another explosion just meters away into the bank on the other side of the road.

The explosion is powerful enough to dismember anyone standing near it, and it hurls deadly sharp metal fragments in all directions.

My heart banged in my chest and I found it hard to breathe. My head was filled with the sounds of shooting and explosions and visions of my team, one by one, going down, and blood splashed everywhere oily and sticky with its dank, coppery smell and I figured, this is it for me.

And then, in that moment of maximum terror, I felt it all abruptly, inexplicably fall away. One second I was paralysed with fear and pain and the next... I had stopped caring about myself.

I would think about this a lot later, and the best I could explain it was, my own life no longer mattered. All that did matter were my buddies, my brothers that they not get hurt, that they not get killed.

These men around me, some of whom I had only known for weeks, were more important to me than life itself. It was like when Hayes ran out on the road to pull Perry back in.

I understood that now, and it was heroic, but it also wasn't heroic. At a certain level I knew Hayes had made no choice, just as he was not choosing to be unafraid. It had just happened to him, like he had passed through some barrier. He had to keep fighting, because the other guys needed him.

"One, this is Six. I'm heading up the hill." Spenser began to climb the rise on the other side of the road, hoping to do what Flag wasn't in a position to do- he was stuck on the hillside, narrowly missing fire.

"We got two squirters out the back!" Taylor screamed, still firing his rifle over my head.

"Is it Ghani?!" I shouted back between rounds.

"I can't say!" Taylor replied.

Kowalski was propped up in the ditch ahead of me. "You know we don't chase squirters, Trig."

I peered above the ditch, and eyed the two figures fleeing around the side of the building. "Son of a bitch, it's Ghani." I murmured. "I'm going after him." I told the men, and crept down the ditch leading toward the shack.

"Rolling with you, Trig!" Kowalski followed close behind, gun up.

"Let's go! I'm ending this!" I shouted to him.

"This isn't the way, Jaz!" Flag argued.

I scoffed. "Are you gonna cover us or what? On me." I ordered. "Three, two, one." We dashed out into the field, trying to avoid any fire on us. Mortars were fired at us, but luckily those guys had a terrible aim, and we were able to evade them.

"Crazy bitch." Someone breathed into my earpiece.

"The squirters stopped moving." Taylor said, as Kowalski and I scurried across the dirt, slamming ourselves into the wall of the shack.

"Doubt they're waving a white flag." I replied.

"Bravo Four, this is Tac. Be advised the targets have stopped moving, and appear to be taking up defensive positions." The radio chattered.

"Copy, Tac." I panted.

We were distracted by a gunman down the side of the shack who would pop out to shoot and then duck back before we could return fire.

We both got down on one knee at opposite sides of the building waiting to nail this guy. From a distance, all the Afghanistan fighters looked the same, skinny black guys with dusty bushes of hair, long baggy pants, and loose, oversized shirts.

While most of them would wildly spray bullets and then run, some were fiercely persistent. Occasionally one would run right out into the open, blazing away, and invariably be mowed down.

This one was smart. He would lean out just long enough to take aim and shoot, then duck back behind the corner.

I tried to anticipate him.

The shooter's head would appear, I would squeeze off a well-aimed round, and the man would duck away again.

I was determined to get him. I stayed down on one knee around a corner trying to hold my Colt M4A1 perfectly steady, drawing a bead on the spot down the alley where the shooter would briefly appear.

Sweat stung my eyes. I grew so absorbed in this fruitless duel that I lost track of time and place and was startled when a Kowalski yelled my name. "Hey, Trig! Come on!"

We continued forward.

I looked back at Kowalski and waited for him to catch up, when I saw a trail of smoke behind a mortar heading our way. I saw it happen.

There wasn't even time to shout a warning, even if Kowalski had been able to hear me. There was just a blaaaap! and a spurt of smoke from the grenade and the Lieutenant went straight down in the dirt on his face.

The blast had hammered my eardrums, and my head was still ringing.

"Man down! Bravo Five is down!" I shouted into the comms.

I watched Kowalski's unmoving body. "Mike!"

"Yeah." He groaned.

I felt relief. "Talk to me, man. You good?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"You good?" I repeated.

Kowalski waved at me and nodded, then began to crawl to me. "I'm good, I'm good. Go."

"Okay, move to cover." I instructed.

"Go after Ghani. Go!" He shouted, groaning and coughing. Blood was coming from his mouth and back, inking through his fatigues.

"This is Bravo Five." He said into the comm.

I lurched ahead, trying to stay out of Ghani's sight, and the gunfire surrounding me.

"I'm just a little dinged up right now."

I heard the explosion of gunfire and the zing and pop of rounds passing close.

"Alpha Four, you okay?" Ellis asked.

"All good here." I answered bluntly, getting a visual on the two escapees. They had stopped in an opening behind the building, loading up a machine gun propped on a bipod.

One of the men had an RPG resting on his shoulder, aimed directly at my team.

I ran on some desperate last reserve of adrenaline. I ran and shot and swore until I began to smell my own blood and feel dizzy. For the first time I felt some stabs of pain. I kept running.

As I approached, I lifted my rifle and shot the man at the machine gun. His body fell forward, his hands not reaching out to lessen his fall.

The RPG was propelled toward my team, and I couldn't risk losing Ghani to see if they made it out of the way. I rushed at him, dropping my rifle to the ground as I ran at him, my hands clutching his neck.

He shouted something, as I pushed him to the ground, one hand still on his neck, and one hand smashing into his face over and over until I couldn't lift my arm anymore. So I just squeezed his throat-tighter and tighter until his spluttering and groans stopped, and he stopped moving from under me.

"Tac, this is Bravo Four. Jackpot. I say again, jackpot."

Gunfire continued, in Kowalski's direction.

I looked down at Ghani, who remained still. So I got to my feet and snatched up my rifle, aiming it at the men running toward a helpless Kowalski.

One of the men went down, though I couldn't see who shot him. I skidded to a stop beside Kowalski, and gripped my rifle, panning the hill for more shooters.

I looked at Kowalski, who gazed up at the hill behind us.

"Bravo Four, you're clear to move." Spenser said.

Panting, Kowalski got to his knees. "Nice shooting, kid." "One, this is Five," Kowalski said. "Target secure. On our way to you."

I put Kowalski's arm around my neck and I heaved him to his feet, and we slowly crept back towards the team.

"Copy, Five." Flag replied, "Prepare to exfil."

We made several steps toward our team, but something whistled behind us, and the ground rushed up to meet me.

"Kowalski!" I shouted when I came to, my ears ringing. I couldn't see anything past the blurred vision. "Kowalski!" I could barely hear my own voice. "Answer me!"

I searched through the dust and smoke, Kowalski's waist was on my arm, unmoving.

My eyes stared at Kowalski's lifeless body, the smoke and dust drifting past my face and into my eyes, making me squint.

Kowalski's skin was already gray and his eyes were open wide and rolled back so you could only see the whites. He had been hit in the upper back where the Kevlar flak vests had no protective plate. The round had pierced his heart and passed through his torso, exiting and lodging in the vest's frontispiece, which did have an armored plate.

Time seemed to slow down, and something lifted me off the ground, and I lulled my head back helpless. "Kowalski!" I screamed, finally able to hear myself.

"He's okay, he's gonna be okay!" I heard Flag shouting. "We've got to get her back in a hurry or she's gonna die!"

I hung there, limp, as he loped swiftly through the sand. Some part of me knew this should upset me–being carried away by a stranger. But there was nothing left in me to upset.

It didn't seem like too much time passed before there were slurred figures and the deep babble of many male voices. Flag slowed as he approached the commotion.

"I've got her!" he called in a booming voice.

The babble ceased, and then picked up again with more intensity. A confusing swirl of faces moved over me.

Flag's' voice was the only one that made sense in the chaos, perhaps because my ear was against his chest.

"She's hurt badly," he told someone.

"Kowalski," I said weakly.

"Jaz, he's going to be fine. Don't worry about him, he's going to be fine. "

I was relieved, but I wasn't sure what was happening.

I felt something warm press against my wrist, and then it was pressed against the skin of my cheek. I hoped that I was fainting, but, to my

disappointment, I didn't lose consciousness. The waves of pain that had only lapped at me before now reared high up and washed over my head, pulling me under.


	9. Chapter 9 Sparks will fly

WASHINGTON D.C

Pain. Dull and throbbing. It was the only thing I could comprehend when I was able to pull myself out of the darkness. Everything hurt. My body began to tremble from the pain and each tremor sent a new wave of pain through my body as it hit cold sheets.

That was something else I could feel...cold. All over my body, underneath the thin sheets and where I was overtop of them as well. I couldn't stop shivering, each time I shivered all I could feel were more agonizing moments of pain. How did I get myself into this?

As soon as I remembered how, I opened my eyes in alarm. What place could be so cold, so painful, and so _bright_? Even underneath my eyelids it was bright, neon red and when I opened them it was blinding white. Pure white, there was no hint of yellow or orange. It made me wince and cry out in shock.

Then I heard a strangely familiar sound, and yet I still couldn't place it. A familiar sound of some sort of _squeaking_?

Rhythmic, growing faster and faster...

A door clicked to my left, my head snapped towards it and I saw the door had closed.

My eyes were blurred, but I looked around, searching for someone. Anyone.

A dark figure sat in a chair on the right, and I waited for my eyes to adjust.

It was dead quiet, apart from the rhythmic beeping.

I looked around the whitewash room, and it was just me in a bed, and someone sleeping in the chair by the window. I couldn't make out who it was. Their arms were crossed, and head bowed. My eyes were blurred, and I decided I wanted out.

I threw the blanket off and dangled my legs off the side of the bed, as quietly as possible to not wake up the stranger. I slipped off the side of the bed, but my legs couldn't carry me.

Instead, they crumbled from under me and I slammed into the floor.

The figure sat up, and leaned toward me.

"Hey." He said, a smooth voice.

I squinted against the brightness, trying to make out his face.

And then the dull pain took over. I tried to sit up, uncomfortable in the half upright position I was in.

"You might wanna take it slower," the voice croaked. This voice was vaguely familiar.

The hospital gown felt like paper against my skin, and I didn't like it.

The pain wasn't subsiding.

"It's okay, I'm just a little sore." I answered, and by the time I made myself comfortable, on the floor I recognised that it was Colonel Rick Flag in the chair beside me. "Oh hey, Boss."

He stared at me blankly as I held my head.

"It's weird, I thought I was going to wake up in pieces."

Flag didn't say anything.

I began to remember a man who had taken on the role as my more present brother, who'd accepted me as I was and encouraged my recklessness which became my success. His face was suddenly everywhere, and made that memory more vivid. More memories flooded back, being in the desert, running toward a bloodied Kowalski…

Then I remembered the blast, and I gasped. "Kowalski?"

Flag's eyes fell away from my face, and he was silent.

Why didn't he answer?

I gasped, shaking my head.

"Kowalski, he didn't-" he began.

"No, no… you said he was alright, you told me not to worry about him, you said he was fine," I was surprised by how calm and reasonable my voice sounded.

It must be because I was so numb. I couldn't realize what he was telling me. It still didn't make any sense.

Was Kowalski hurt as badly than I was? Or was he worse? Why did Flag tell me that he was okay if he wasn't?

I tried to _get_ control of myself, to reason with myself.

 _What's the worst that can happen_? I flinched. That was definitely the wrong question to ask.

I was having a hard time breathing right.

 _Okay_ , I thought again, _what's the worst I can live through_? I didn't like that question so much, either. But I thought through the possibilities I'd considered already.

"He didn't make it." Flag said in an unemotional voice, each word separate and distinct.

I shook my head back and forth mechanically, trying to clear it. He waited without any sign of impatience. It took a few minutes before I could speak.

I didn't answer. I couldn't think of a way to protest, but I instantly knew that I wanted to. I didn't like this. _This is bad, this is very bad_ , the voice in my head repeated again and again.

But he didn't wait for an answer.

I stared at him, trying to understand what he meant.

He stared back coldly.

With a roll of nausea, I realized I'd heard him right.

He opened his mouth to speak.

"Don't." My voice was just a whisper now; awareness was beginning to seep through me, trickling like acid through my veins. "Don't say that." I shouted, furious, the words exploding out of me–somehow it still sounded like a plea.

He just stared at me, and I could see from his eyes that my words were far too late. He already had.

I opened my mouth to say something, and then closed it again. He waited patiently, his face wiped clean of all emotion.

I tried again. "You lied to me." I wonder what he saw on my face, because something flickered across his own face in response.

But, before I could identify it, he'd composed his features into the same serene mask.

He took a deep breath and stared, unseeingly, at the ground for a long moment. His mouth twisted the tiniest bit. When he finally looked up, his eyes were different, harder–like they had frozen solid. "You were dying, and there wasn't anything you could have done." He said defensively.

My whole body went numb. I couldn't feel anything below the neck.

"He's dead. It's all my fault!" I shouted, trying to grab the bed rail to pull myself up, but my shoulder gave back a sting of searing hot pain. "Wha-!" I looked down at my left arm, and it was in a thick cast. "What the fuck?" I flashed a glare at Flag, who held up his hand in protest.

"So, about the arm," he started.

"I've been unconscious for ten fucking minutes and they've put me in this thing? How am I meant to operate a gun?" I said each word slowly, carefully controlling my anger.

"It was either that, or lose the arm."

"What am I supposed to do with this?" I stared at him angrily.

He rubbed the side of his face, irritated. "You can use it to bash my face in if you want." He looked away, embarrassed. "Give me the Chapman family bulk deal."

"Don't tempt me." I clenched my fist.

"I'm sorry, Jaz. We did everything we could to save him." He said quietly. His green eyes watched me intensely.

I was staring blankly at him. It wasn't fair. I began gathering my thoughts slowly, trying to block the anger that filled me, for fear my eyes would tear up.

For some reason, my temper was hardwired to my tear ducts.

I usually cried when I was angry, a humiliating tendency. I looked at him, pleading with him hoping this was a dream and everything he said was untrue.

As I watched, his frozen eyes melted. The green became liquid, molten, burning down into mine with an intensity that was overwhelming.

I could hear the blood pounding faster than normal behind my ears.

"Andy came to see you." His voice sounded farther away. He smiled gently. "He's glad you're okay."

"He hit you?" It sounded like there was something stuck in my throat, like I was choking.

"Well, I deserved his weak punches." He smiled; the smile was tranquil and it did not touch his eyes. "That's everything, I suppose."

The plural caught my attention. That surprised me; I would have thought I was beyond noticing anything.

"Mike's gone," I realized. I don't know how he heard me–the words made no sound–but he seemed to understand.

He nodded his head slowly, always watching my face. "No. The boys are too upset to visit, so I stayed to tell you the bad news."

"Mike is gone..." My voice was blank with disbelief. I was dizzy; it was hard to concentrate. Flag's words swirled around in my head, and it made perfect sense but I didn't want to believe any of it.

My heart fell through my stomach and suddenly I couldn't breathe.

I tried to breathe normally. I needed to concentrate, to find a way out of this nightmare.

But every time I blinked, I was still here, sitting on the cold hospital floor.

"N-n-no," I started to cry, a small hopeless sound in the stillness.

For a moment he went on staring at me. Then he closed the small gap between us and flung his arms around me.

I tried to shrug off his heavy arms, but I wasn't nearly strong enough. I felt a trickle of tears smeared onto the side of my face, as he tried to keep me still as I became a ball of sobbing mess.

He pulled my head onto his lap and held my face to his thigh as I tried to fight him off.

"Hey-hey it's okay, it's _not_ your fault," he mumbled. "It's not okay? No one is blaming you."

As I lay there, I had a feeling that more time was passing than I realized. I couldn't remember how long it had been since I woke up.

"My best friend… my brother!" I choked. I tried to picture my life without Kowalski, but I couldn't. We were immortals before Afghanistan.

"Shh, it's okay, it's not your fault. Be still before you hurt yourself!"

"Get off me!" I screamed, trying wrestle free, but Flag's arms were like iron bars, and wouldn't release me. I wanted nothing more than to run away as fast as I could...

I tried to muffle the hysterics that my screams were building into.

More memories flooded back, chasing Ghani, gun shots from behind me, the blast… I wanted to beg for someone to kill me now, before I lived one more second in this pain. But I couldn't move my lips. My heart fell through my stomach and suddenly I couldn't breathe.

Flag put one hand on my head, stroking the stray hair from my face as I lay there, sobbing uncontrollably. He didn't say anything as I struggled to control myself, but it was as though I wasn't able to flick the switch.

I wanted Kowalski. I wanted Andy. Anyone but Flag.

The energy was draining from me so quickly, my screaming quickly turned into weak whimpers.

"Shhh," Flag cooed, stroking my head gently. "It's okay. There was nothing you could have done."

I began to shiver from the cold floor, despite Flag's warmth underneath me.

"It should've been me," I croaked.

"Come on," a soft grunt came from his chest as he lifted me off the floor and put me back into the hospital bed. He even pulled the blanket back over me. "You need to rest."

I remained a sniffling mess as I curled into a ball and turned away from him. Was this how I wanted Flag to remember the once strong, unbothered female Tier One?

"I'm sorry," I mumbled sleepily.

Flag didn't respond; instead, he sat back in the chair.

It seemed like a long time until the door opened, and someone snuck in quietly.

"Hey, Doc," Flag murmured. "She's gone back to sleep."

"It seems the shock and anger forced her to use up all of her energy stores," the doctor replied in a gruff voice. "But she will be fine. Vitals are good."

"I should leave. She knows everything now, but her next of kin won't be returning." Flag said.

The doctor moved from his place beside me. "You should stay, Sir. A trauma like this requires company. I can excuse you from duty if need be."

"I'm not the one she wants here," Flag grumbled.

"But you are the person that is here. Stay."

The weeks that followed the accident was uneasy, tense, and at first, embarrassing.

To my dismay, I found myself the centre of attention for the rest of that week. Danny Hayes was impossible, following me around, obsessed with making amends to me somehow.

I tried to convince him what I wanted more than anything else was for him to forget all about it — especially since he didn't actually have anything to do with what happened — but he remained insistent.

He followed me between tasks and sat at our now-crowded lunch table. Taylor and Spenser were even less friendly toward him than they were to each other, which made me worry that I'd gained another unwelcome fan.

No one seemed concerned about Flag, though I explained over and over that he was the hero — how he had pulled me out of the debris and had saved me from bleeding to death, too.

Flag was never surrounded by crowds of curious bystanders eager for his firsthand account. People avoided him as usual.

I walked around in a stupor, not bothering to go to the gym or do any kind of target practice while the Alpha Dogs did- I just slept. But each time I woke, Kowalski was still gone.

While I drove, I worried a little bit about Andy's reaction to seeing me.

He would be _too_ pleased. In Andy's mind, no doubt, this had all worked out better than he had dared to hope.

His pleasure and relief would only remind me of the one I couldn't bear to be reminded of.

 _Not again today_ , I pleaded silently. I was spent.

Andy's house was vaguely familiar, a small wooden place with narrow windows, the dull red paint making it resemble a tiny barn. Andy's head peered out of the window before I could even get out of the truck.

He met me halfway to the house.

"Jaz!" His excited grin stretched wide across his face, the bright teeth standing in vivid contrast to the copper colour of his skin. I'd never seen his hair out of its usual cropped cut before. It fell in black satin wisps on either side of his broad face.

Andy had grown into some of his potential in the last eight years. He'd passed that point where the soft muscles of childhood hardened into the solid, lanky build of a man; the tendons and veins had become prominent under the red-brown skin of his arms, his hands.

His face was still sweet like I remembered it, though it had hardened, too–the planes of his cheekbones sharper, his jaw squared off, all childish roundness gone.

"Hey, Andy!" I felt an unfamiliar surge of enthusiasm at his smile. I realized that I was pleased to see him. This knowledge surprised me.

I smiled back, and something clicked silently into place, like two corresponding puzzle pieces. I'd forgotten how much I really missed Andy.

He stopped a few feet away from me, and I stared up at him in surprise, leaning my head back though the rain pelted my face.

"You grew again!" I accused in amazement. I had forgotten how tall he really was since I had seen him eight years ago.

The military were well known for keeping families apart for long periods of time-even more so when both members were enlisted.

He laughed, his smile widening impossibly. "Six foot," he announced with self-satisfaction.

His voice was deeper, but it had the husky tone I remembered.

"Is it ever going to stop?" I shook my head in disbelief. "You're huge."

"Still a beanpole, though." He grimaced. "Come inside! You're getting all wet."

He led the way tousling his hair in his big hands as he walked.

"Hey, Craig," he called as he ducked to _get_ through the front door. "Look who stopped by."

Andy's best friend Brian Craig, also a marine, was in the tiny square living room, a book in his hands. He set the book in his seat and launched himself forward when he saw me.

"Well, what do you know! It's good to see you, Jaz. I've heard a lot about you."

We shook hands. Mine was lost in his wide grasp.

"What brings you out here? Everything okay with work?"

"Yes, absolutely. I just wanted to see Andy–I haven't seen him in forever."

Andy's eyes brightened at my words. He was smiling so big it looked like it would hurt his cheeks.

"Can you stay for dinner?" Craig was eager, too.

"No, I've got to get back to work, you know."

"Oh." His face fell.

I laughed to hide my discomfort. "It's not like you'll never see me again. I promise I'll be back again soon–so much you'll get sick of me."

Craig chuckled in response. "Okay, maybe next time."

"So, Jaz, what do you want to do?" Andy asked.

"Whatever. What were you doing before I interrupted?" I was strangely comfortable here. It was familiar, but only distantly. There were no painful reminders of the recent past.

Andy hesitated. "I was just heading out to work on my bike, but we can do something else…"

"No, that's perfect!" I interrupted. "I'd love to see your bike."

"Okay," he said, not convinced. "It's out back, in the garage."

 _Even better_ , I thought to myself. I waved at Craig. "See you later."

A thick stand of trees and shrubbery concealed his garage from the house. The garage was no more than a couple of big preformed sheds that had been bolted together with their interior walls knocked out. Under this shelter, raised on cinder blocks, was what looked to me like a completed motorcycle. I recognized the symbol on the tank, at least.

"What kind of Norton is that?" I asked.

"It's an old Atlas. 1967, a classic."

"How's it going?"

"Almost finished," he said cheerfully. And then his voice dropped into a lower key. "So how have you been since-"

"Terrible, to tell you the truth."

"So bad you had to come see me?"

I nodded. "I knew you had the next six weeks off, so, of course. It was about time we caught up."

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry about Kowalski."

"Aha," I said.

He seemed to understand my reluctance to open the subject. I tried not to remember the last op.

It turned out that his concern was, in the end, unnecessary. I was all too safe now.

"I'm sorry it took me so long, actually."

Andy was wiping the shiny chromed wheel arch with his sleeve, trying not to pay too much attention. "It's fine. I get it. What I don't understand, is why I can't visit you at the base when I'm there anyway?"

"Well…" I pursed my lips as I considered. I wasn't sure if he could keep his mouth shut, but I didn't have many other options. "I joined a DEVGRU team. That's why. You're not even supposed to know. Honestly, Colonel'd probably bust a vein in his forehead if he knew about this. So you can't tell Craig or Dad."

"I understand." This offended him. "I wish you'd told me earlier. The only way we can see each other is off base. But you knew what you signed up for, Jaz. What did you expect to happen?"

"I wasn't supposed to see him die, let alone be alive when he did."

"You feel guilty."

I bit my lip, embarrassed. "It was my fault, he took my flank to catch Ghani," I admitted.

Andy's jaw flexed, and his brows pulled together. "So are you avoiding your team, or actually wanting to see me?"

"This is hardly the place, Andy. Could we discuss this later?"

Andy snorted. "What's wrong with now?"

"What do you want me to say?"

"Kowalski promised he would look after you. It was a fluke you both got on the same unit. What were you even doing joining a team like the DEVGRU's anyway? You're going to get killed."

He made it sound so inevitable. I shuddered.

"Andy, it doesn't have to be that way."

His teeth ground together. "It _is_ that way."

The silence after his declaration felt very loud.

"You can't see past that, can you?" I whispered. As soon as I said the words, I wished I hadn't. I didn't want to hear his answer.

"You won't be my little sister anymore," he told me. "Jaz won't exist. There'll be no one to forgive."

We faced each other for an endless moment.

The tension between Andy and I continued to bubble over as we stood there, not really sure what else we could say to one another that wouldn't be make it more uncomfortable than everything already was. I felt strangely lost and hurt as I thought of the last time that we had seen one another.

"Is this goodbye then?"

He blinked rapidly, his fierce expression melting in surprise. "You're on the most dangerous Special Forces team in the world, and you think you _won't_ die?"

"I don't think of it that way. I'm saving people, it's what I do. I can't imagine it would get any better than that."

"Will you ever stop?!"

I was not expecting his reaction.

He was suddenly on his feet, and he glared at me wildly.

I froze in place, too shocked to remember how to move.

And then Andy gritted his teeth together, and he squeezed his eyes tight in concentration. "You're in a hurry to die," he said in a flat monotone.

I couldn't respond; I was still frozen.

He opened his eyes. They were beyond fury now. "Like Kowalski?" Andy hissed through his teeth.

Too stunned to take offense at his words, I just shrugged.

His face turned green under the russet skin.

"I'm sorry, Andy. I was invited, and I passed. I took the job. It's what I want." I whispered after a long minute of silence. "I need to make it up Kowalski, prove it wasn't a bad call. I'll do it, and succeed, for him. What else can I do?"

I'd meant that as a rhetorical question.

His words cracked like snaps of a whip. "Anything. Anything else. You failed Kowalski, and you failed me. You won't quit, then I don't have a sister anymore."

I recoiled like he'd slapped me. It hurt worse than if he had.

And then, as the pain shot through me, my own temper burst into flame.

"Maybe you'll get lucky," I said bleakly, lurching to my feet. "Maybe I'll get hit by a truck on my way back." I stormed out of the garage and climbed back in my truck, revving the engine unnecessarily before I drove away.

I wasn't paying attention to where I was driving–just wandering through empty, wet side roads as I avoided the ways that would take me back to the base–because I didn't have anywhere to go.

I wished I could feel numb again, but I couldn't remember how I'd managed it before. The memory of the blast was nagging at my mind and making me think about things that would cause me pain.

I didn't want to remember the desert. Even as I shuddered away from the images, I felt my eyes fill with tears and the aching begin around the edges of the hole in my chest. I took one hand from the steering wheel and wrapped it around my torso to hold it in one piece.

 _Target Secure. On our way to you..._

They were just words, soundless, like print on a page. Just words, but they ripped the hole wide open, and I stomped on the brake, knowing I should not drive while this incapacitated.

I curled over, pressing my face against the steering wheel and trying to breathe without lungs.

But what if this hole never got any better? If the raw edges never healed? If the damage was permanent and irreversible?

I held myself tightly together.

I thumped my head against the steering wheel, trying to distract myself from the sharper pain.

It made me feel silly for ever worrying about what Andy would think about me joining the Tier Ones. Who cared if I was reckless and stupid? There was no reason to avoid recklessness, no reason why I shouldn't get to be stupid.

I laughed humourlessly to myself, still gasping for air. A reckless DEVGRU operator. Now that was a desperate suggestion.

Andy wanted me to stay behind and be a good soldier, follow the rules like everyone else. But now I had entered a new kind of family that _wanted_ me to succeed.

The Marine Corps hadn't _always_ been so harmless, but now it was exactly what it had always appeared to me. It was dull, it was safe.

I stared out the windshield for a long moment, my thoughts moving sluggishly–I couldn't seem to make those thoughts go anywhere. I cut the engine, which was groaning in a pitiful way after idling for so long, and stepped out into the drizzle.

That evening Colonel Rick Flag and Danny Hayes were kind enough to take me to the military cemetery off base, since I missed the service. I didn't say anything the entire time we were in Flag's Navigator, but Flag was more than happy to share with me while Hayes went to visit someone else buried there. He watched from a distance though, cautious. Maybe he thought I was going to lose it, and preferred to be at a safe distance.

Flag was blabbering on and on about the service I had missed while in hospital, perhaps he though the details of his memorial in Arlington would make me feel better. It didn't. Instead, his words blurred into a murmuring noise as I concentrated on trying to maintain my stable composure.

But there it was, in the evening darkness. A giant concrete kick to the stomach.

Until now, it felt like he was just gone away, like on leave. But here was the tangible proof.

It read:

Michael Brian Kowalski

LT

Naval Special Warfare Development Group

Alpha Team

APR 15, 1989 - MAR 30, 2018

"I'm sorry, Colonel." My apology sounded a little flat, even to me. I'd thought I'd been fooling him.

Keeping the others from suffering was the whole point of all this effort. How depressing to think that the effort had been wasted.

"I don't want you to apologise."

I sighed. "Then tell me what you do want me to do."

"Jaz," he hesitated, scrutinizing my reaction to his next words. "Major, you're not the first person to go through this kind of thing, you know."

"I know that." My accompanying grimace was limp and unimpressive.

"Listen, Jaz. I think that–that maybe you need some help."

"Help?"

He paused, searching for the words again. "When my unit died," he began, frowning, "It near killed me." He inhaled deeply. "Well, that was a really bad time for me."

"I know, Flag," I mumbled.

"But I handled it," he pointed out. "Honey, you're not handling it. I waited, I hoped it would get better." He stared at me and I looked down quickly. "I think we both know it's not getting better."

"I'm fine."

He ignored me. "Maybe, well, maybe if you talked to someone about it. A professional."

"You want me to see a shrink?" My voice was a shade sharper as I realized what he was getting at.

"Maybe it would help."

"And maybe it wouldn't help one little bit." I didn't know much about psychoanalysis, but I was pretty sure that it didn't work unless the subject was relatively honest. Sure, I could tell the truth–if I wanted to spend the rest of my life in a padded cell.

Flag examined my obstinate expression, and switched to another line of attack. "So talk to _me_ then."

"Look," I said in a flat voice. "I'll go out tonight, if you want. I'll call Nicole."

"That's not what I want," he argued, frustrated. "I don't think I can live through seeing you try _harder_. I've never seen anyone trying so hard. It hurts to watch."

I pretended to be dense, looking down at the headstone. "I don't understand, Sir."

"I want you to be happy–no, not even that much. I just want you not to be miserable. I think you'll have a better chance if you went home for a few days. It worked for me."

My eyes flashed up with the first small spark of feeling I'd had in too long to contemplate. "I'm not leaving," I said.

"Why not?" he demanded.

"My brother wants nothing to do with me." I snapped.

Flag fell silent, but inched closer, his jacket almost touching my arm. "Well, spend more time with your other family."

I scoffed. "You mean Alpha Dogs?"

"Yeah. I think they miss you." He said quickly. "You have me, too. You helped me after the last two men died."

"It's not the same, Flag. Kowalski was all I had. Andy is always working and my father- he's the biggest disappointment."

"Maybe you can reach out to him." Flag suggested, a miniscule smile on his lips.

I sighed and looked back at him, skeptical. "Maybe."

"Hey, I did. Cleared my head. And you know, you should take the advice you gave me. _Don't be so hard on yourself._ " He put a heavy hand on my shoulder. "I'll give you a minute." He left me there, and joined Hayes. I assumed it was the burial site of Steve, the man I replaced.

Once I was confident they were in a deep conversation, I knelt before the headstone a few minutes later, resigned as the pain finally made its appearance.

It was a crippling thing, this sensation that a huge hole had been punched through my chest, excising my most vital organs and leaving ragged, unhealed gashes around the edges that continued to throb and bleed despite the passage of time.

Rationally, I knew my lungs must still be intact, yet I gasped for air and my head spun like my efforts yielded me nothing.

My heart must have been beating, too, but I couldn't hear the sound of my pulse in my ears; my hands felt blue with cold. I curled inward, hugging my ribs to hold myself together. I scrambled for numbness, my denial, but it evaded me.

And yet, I found I could survive. I was alert, I felt the pain–the aching loss that radiated out from my chest, sending wracking waves of hurt through my limbs and head–but it was manageable.

I could live through it. It didn't feel like the pain had weakened over time rather that I'd grown strong enough to bear it.

Whatever it was that Flag said, it had affected me.

"I'm so sorry, Mike. It's my fault. I shouldn't have gone out there. I should have told you to stay behind…. I'm so sorry, brother." I fought back tears, but my voice wavered, and my throat got dry. I closed my eyes, and remembered his bloodied face as he lay in the sand against the hill, telling me to go and get Ghani. Even as I shivered away from the images, I felt my eyes fill with tears. As hard as I tried, I let them go, and wiped them away with the back of my hand quickly. "I miss you," I whispered. I remembered I had printed off a photo of us together during a Bravo mission in basic, and reached for it in my pocket. I gazed at it for a long time, my heart tugging at the dimpled smile on Kowalski's face.

I wondered how long this could last. Maybe someday, years from now–if the pain would just decrease to the point where I could bear it–I would be able to look back on those several short years that would always be the best of my life. And, if it were possible that the pain would ever soften enough to allow me to do that, I was sure that I would feel grateful for as much time as he'd given me.

More than I'd asked for, more than I'd deserved. Maybe someday I'd be able to see it that way.

I wiped the remaining tears away, and stood up, sighing. "Goodbye, Kowalski. I'll make it up to you, I promise. Watch over Andy for me."

My eyes flashed up to see Hayes and Flag talking to a young woman, much younger than me. She was blonde, and laughing, touching Flag's arm lightly.

But Flag wasn't bothered by her, he was watching me.

She said something to Flag. The coy smile was still in place, but he wasn't looking at her, and she left dissatisfied.

My eyes fell back down to the photograph, and I placed it down on the base of the headstone gently.

Flag strode to me, head tilted down and he shoved his hands into his jeans.

"You okay?" He must have seen I had been crying.

"Yeah, thanks."

He looked down at the photo I left behind. Picking it up, he smiled at it. "Great photo."

"Nigeria. I'll never forget how happy he was when he found out we were in the top ten." I smiled to myself. "He was more my brother than Andy ever was. He accepted me for who I was, girl and all. My personal hero."

Flag's eyes fell back to the photo. He almost looked sad; if that was his sad face looked like. Flag didn't show a lot of emotion and I wasn't sure if he knew how.

"Kowalski wasn't your hero. You were. He was just your wing man."

I grinned, allowing a heavy sigh escape, and I fought back the tears again. "Yeah, he was."

Flag's eyes ripped away from the photo and back at me. "We're going out tomorrow night, in memory of Kowalski."

"You didn't do it already?" I asked.

"No, I told the others to wait for you to be ready."

I smiled shyly. "Thank you," I breathed. I bit my lip, trying to stop my chin from shaking.

Flag leaned toward me, and put his arm around my shoulder.

I leaned my face on his jacket, and took in a slow, quivering breath. "I'm sorry, you don't need this."

"No, it's good. You're grieving; that's what I should have done a long time ago."

I shook my head, rolling my cheek across his deltoid. "I had no right to say what I did. Nothing hurts like this, and I'm sorry. You were handling it much better than I am now."

Flag grunted, his voice rumbled sending vibrations trough his arm. "It was different. Kowalski was your best friend. It's amplified one hundred times more." His voice was smooth and flawless.

"I'm so sorry to put you through this all again."

Flag chuckled. "Don't worry about me." He smelled amazing. I inhaled, trying to identify the delicious scent. It didn't smell like cologne.

"I'm here whenever you need me." He replied softly.

"I might need you forever then," I said sarcastically. "Kowalski is gone forever."

Flag scoffed. "Forever it is."

We were silent while I composed myself, and I pulled away from his one armed hug.

Flag slowly dropped his hand from around my shoulder. "I overheard you and Ellis yesterday about the supermarkets not having anything you liked. I'll take you to the city market on Saturday. Your truck doesn't look like it will make it."

I shook my head. "It won't. The battery is dead."

Flag hummed. "I'll take you then. I need to get coffee anyway."

He headed back to his Navigator, strolling slowly. He waved the photo at me. "This is going on the wall." He smiled.

"Thanks for being so good to me, Colonel. This must open up old wounds." I said.

"Yeah, well we can suffer in silence, or suffer together. I guess we can't do silence anymore. At least we have that in common."

Hayes was waiting at Flag's Navigator, talking on his phone.

"You know the force supplies coffee," I mocked.

"Well, if you don't want me grumpy and shooting anyone who talks at breakfast, I've got to get the good stuff."

I laughed.

"Look, Jaz, I get it. I get it _exactly._ I felt responsible for my unit-just as you did Kowalski. And I died with them. I didn't let anyone in, for fear of losing them too, and if I did lose them, it didn't hurt so much. I could tell when I met you that you were the same, but you weren't afraid you'd lose your brother. Like you never thought about it. I've become this rock and I never know if I'll be him forever. I don't even know what Blackburn's going to have me do. I don't know who I am and it scares the hell out of me and I don't know what that makes me. And the last few weeks, you have been me."

I bit my lip to stop it from shaking. Never had I noticed what I was turning into and Flag explained it perfectly. This is what soldiers did to protect their sanity.

Flag noticed my silence. "If it helps, you don't need to hide it from me. Because I know how it feels. I still feel it. But we both don't want to be these monsters that death, guilt and loss have turned us into. We try so hard to save as many people as we can to make up for it. For no one else to feel the pain we do, to see the things we have seen… It's what we do. And I guess, up until you came along on our missions, I never had anyone like you. You get it, because you have already lost. Before Kowalski."

I frowned. "How do you know about that?" I snapped.

Flag shook his head. "I'm your commander, it's my job to know about the people on my team." He scoffed. "And it's okay." His face changed, into a soft and gentle façade. "You were the only to tell me the unit I lost wasn't my fault. And I believed you."

"We're the world's greatest predator," I started. "It comes with a cost, right?"

His lovely eyes seem to glow with rash excitement. Then, as the seconds passed, they dimmed. His expression slowly folded into a mask of ancient sadness. "And this is what we are. What we do. Until we finally decide to stop. But would we stop?" he asked tenderly, reaching out slowly, carefully, to place his giant hand around mine.

I looked at his smooth hand, and then at his eyes. They were soft, repentant. I looked back at his hand, and then deliberately returned to tracing the lines in his hand

with my fingertip. I looked up and smiled timidly. "Maybe not. It's too exciting."

His answering smile was dazzling. "I crave your company too much to do what I should."

I hummed. "And what is that?"

"Walk away." he answered.


	10. Chapter 10 Unexpected

It was very hard, in the morning, to argue with the part of me that was sure last night was a dream.

Logic wasn't on my side, or common sense. I clung to the parts I couldn't have imagined — like Colonel Flag's smell. I was sure I could never have dreamed that up on my own.

I remembered the fabric of his shirt clung to his perfectly muscled chest. It was a colossal tribute to his face that it kept my eyes away from his body.

As I tried to gather my jumbled thoughts, his smile interrupted them all, sabotaging any efforts I had previously made to avoid him. It wasn't really his fault that his voice was so irresistible. Or what his eyes were capable of. I hadn't imagined that the Colonel could be so compassionate and understanding, he wasn't comfortable with expressing his emotions out loud.

I skipped to the shower block, my emotions unrecognizable. I didn't know myself, inside or out.

The face in the mirror was practically a stranger — eyes too bright, hectic spots of red across my cheekbones. After I brushed my teeth, I worked to straighten out the tangled chaos that was my hair. I splashed my face with cold water, and tried to breathe normally, with no noticeable success.

The olive shade of his eyes as we stared at each other for an immeasurable period of time-at least I did in my dream last night. His smell, his smile, his eyes. He stood like statue of Adonis again, staring abstractedly as the blonde woman tried for this attention, and failed.

Maybe it was just a very convincing dream that I'd confused with reality. That seemed more probable than that I really appealed to him on any level.

I stared at myself in the mirror closely, trying to forget anything I was feeling for Colonel Flag.

But instead, flashes of my dream last night invaded my thoughts. I caressed his cheek, delicately stroked his eyelid, the purple shadow in the hollow under his eye. I traced the shape of his perfect nose, and then, so carefully, his flawless lips. His lips parted under my hand, and I could feel his warm breath on my fingertips. I wanted to lean in, to inhale the scent of him. So I dropped my hand and leaned away, not wanting to push him too far.

He opened his eyes, and they were hungry. Not in a way to make me fear, but rather to tighten the muscles in the pit of my stomach and send my pulse hammering through my veins again.

I shook my head violently to clear away the images. I smiled to myself, thinking I would get over it- it was just a little infatuation, probably because he treated me with respect.

But I felt something...a pull, a want, a _need_ to be with him. When he was gone, even in if it was just a meeting, I felt so lost. It hurt. No matter who was here to cheer me up, no matter who was babysitting me, no matter if I was conscious or unconscious...I always knew whether or not he was near me.

I closed my eyes, testing the feeling in the room around me. It was chilly, too chilly in comparison to the heat that I was used to. I felt isolated, I felt somehow very alone. As if something were wrong with the balance of my life. As if a whole side of me was missing.

A reason for balance in itself. It was as if I was completely incomplete.

So was this - whatever _this_ was - is it love? Or was it just a need to be near him because he was the only true and familiar thing that I seemed to recall at all from the life everyone was trying to get me to leave? Did I love him? Or did I need him? Or...was it a little bit of both? Maybe the question should be rephrased. Did I love him because I needed him, or did I need him because I loved him?

After Flag's suggestion to get some "help", I found myself sitting in the waiting room in the mental health office.

My foot was relentlessly tapping on the floor, waiting impatiently for someone to come out and talk to me.

I had made it too hard for anyone to get to know me, it seemed. The hands on the huge clock on the wall didn't accelerate. With relentless, uncaring force, they turned inexorably toward the end–the end of everything as I knew it.

Busy people passed by the waiting room window, idly looking at me through the glass as they strode by.

Empty faces with no emotion; little surprise that a woman would be in there, I thought.

I looked at the frosted door of the therapist's room, which remained closed and unmoving, much like my emotional wellbeing. _This is stupid._ I thought, as I got up and walked out of the room.

As frustrated as I was at that point, I couldn't even locate one single person I knew. Not even someone as insignificant as Nicole Ellis, a fellow woman.

I grunted in frustration at the loneliness that seemed to follow me like an unwavering shadow.

I trudged off to the common room with a grim expression. This was the place where I'd expect to see _someone_.

It had been weeks, maybe months, since Hayes had even greeted me when I passed him in the

hall. I knew I had offended him with my antisocial behaviour, and he was sulking.

It wasn't going to be easy to talk to him now–especially to ask him to be listening ear.

I weighed my options carefully as I loitered outside the barracks, procrastinating. I wasn't about to face the Colonel again without some kind of social interaction to report.

The wall found my back, as my brain scrambled to remember some of the crap the Staff Sergeant rattled off in Green Team.

 _I am an American soldier, I am a warrior and a member of a team._

 _I serve the people of the United States, and live the Army values._

 _I will always put the mission first._

 _I will never accept defeat._

 _I will never quit._

 _I will never leave a fallen comrade._

 _I am disciplined, physically and mentally tough, trained and proficient in my warrior tasks and drills._

 _I always maintain my arms, my equipment and myself._

 _I am an expert and I am professional._

 _I stand ready to deploy, engage and destroy, the enemies of the United States of America in close combat._

 _I am a guardian of freedom and the American way of life._

 _I am an American soldier._

And I suddenly felt stronger, remembering the oath I took as I enlisted so many years ago. It seemed more like a year ago rather than forteen, but I still remembered every word. It was permanently ingrained into our skulls-something no soldier could-or would want to forget.

"I, Jaz Chapman, do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; and that I will obey the orders of the President of the United States and the orders of the officers appointed over me, according to regulations and the Uniform Code of Military Justice. So help me God." I had said it aloud, and it wasn't until I looked up from the concrete path that I realised I had an audience.

"Wow that was perfect." Colonel Flag stared right back at me, his eyes soft." I can't say I remember it as well as you do, though."

Something stronger than butterflies battering recklessly against the walls of my stomach, my almost confession with the therapist already a distant memory.

I looked down, flushing, of course. "Sorry, I didn't know anyone was here." I said in a tiny voice.

He raised one eyebrow questioningly.

"Really, I'm not crazy," I protested.

"You should be — a _normal_ person would be. You don't even look ...psycho." He seemed unsettled. He stared into my eyes, and I saw how light his eyes were, lighter than I'd ever seen them, juniper green.

"I feel very safe with you," I confessed, mesmerized into telling the truth.

That displeased him; his brow furrowed. He shook his head, frowning.

"This is more complicated than I'd planned," he murmured to himself. Flag's head tilted slightly, in interest or confusion-I could tell which one. "Everyone has gone home for the week. Except you, obviously."

I took a deep breath and stood up straight, staring at him. "I sold my apartment while I was in Green Team I expected to be stationed in Turkey or something. Wait-why are you here, then?"

"I usually do paperwork on weekends. I practically live here." He replied with something akin to pleasure.

"Oh." Was all I could utter.

"How are you feeling today?" He asked, his voice full of interest. He beckoned for me to walk along with him. I noticed two large folders in one of his arms, thick and worn.

It seemed he didn't want to talk about work, or anything _war_ related, so I assumed he was in a good enough mood to talk to. The thought made me feel almost… _hopeful_.

Maybe it would be the same as yesterday. Maybe I wouldn't have to remind myself to look interested and to nod or smile at appropriate intervals, the way I had to with everyone else. Maybe… but I wouldn't trust this to last, either. Wouldn't trust it to be the same–so easy–as yesterday.

I wasn't going to set myself up for disappointment like that.

"I went to see a therapist today," I began.

Flag's eyebrows shot up in surprise, I didn't seem to like his advice last night. "Oh?"

"They took forever, so I gave up on it. The idea of being on pills or thrown into a padded cell doesn't appeal."

He scoffed. "Therapists aren't available weekends. It says so on the door."

I looked away, embarrassed. "Oh."

Flag led the way into the barracks and slapped the folders on the table before heading toward the coffee machine. "There's nothing to be ashamed of, we all end up there from time to time. That's what keeps us human, I guess."

I laughed humourlessly. "Said you, who refused to talk to a shrink for a three years."

Flag frowned, pouring two cups of filtered coffee, and gently put them on the table.

I sat down and took a cup gingerly wrapping my fingers around it.

"So, you read my file then," he smiled into his cup.

"It's my job, Colonel." I replied coyly.

"It's Rick. Yes, it is your job to listen to your team mates bitch and moan about their problems… but I can do the same for you. It seems hard for you to express yourself. I had the same issue, and once I began talking to you, I knew I was going to be fine."

"It's my job, as your medic… talking to you about my feelings ain't in _you_ r job description." I laughed.

"Yes ma'am," he chuckled.

I sipped the hot black liquid carefully, deep in thought as Flag began to flip through the folder before him.

"You know that letter the NSWDG make us write that goes in our package in case we don't come back home? I never wrote one."

Flag didn't look up from his files, just nodded, taking a swig from his mug.

"I wish I had." I muttered, afraid to say more. My stomach was contorting strangely and I thought my voice might crack. I was terrified. I tried to tell myself that the fear was pointless. I'd already lived through the worst thing possible. In comparison with that, why should anything frighten me now? I should be able to look death in the face and laugh.

My stomach wasn't buying it.

His face fell. I caught the expression in his eyes before he dropped them to look at the ground. "Last time I wrote a letter and not pack it… was five years. My mom… every time I'd deploy she'd send me a box with a meal and I'd facetime her and I'd eat it. And the rest of my family would watch me eat and I'd watch them. You know, it's like we were all together. My mom gives the same speech."

"What was the speech?" I asked. Flag folded his arms, motionlessly leaning against his chair, like a marble tribute to some forgotten pagan god of beauty. The dream had not done him justice. And he was there for me just the same as yesterday.

Despair momentarily vanished; wonder took its place. Even after a few months with him, I still couldn't believe that I deserved this degree of good fortune.

He let out a deflated laugh. "We're a military family, so you can imagine. Faith, honour, all that crap."

"How's that crap, Rick?"

"Well, it used to keep me going. Thinking I was some kind of hero." He paused, looking blankly at the paper on the table." These covert ops…" His face lifted to look at me, "Yeah, half the time we don't even know what we're doing. Just shoot, don't ask questions." He scoffed. "Look at where it got us."

He went silent, releasing a heavy breath as though it look all of his will power to say it.

His eyes kept looking at me, waiting for a reply.

I simply looked away, almost disappointed he didn't walk on water with the amount of skill and experience he had.

"I don't know what I have faith in anymore." He added.

I looked back at him, almost angry. He sounded almost defeated.

"I have faith in you."

"That's sweet." He smiled crookedly. "Hey, I'll stay with you, okay."

"Okay," I agreed, unable to smile back. "I was going to see mental health but-" I paused, now with a feeling at all scrutiny was long gone. "What was I going to tell them? The only one I can talk to is you. Am I one step closer to heroic?"

"We're not heroes, Jaz. We're soldiers. We keep our mouth shut…we forget."

I nodded slowly, beginning to out the pieces of Flag's mind together like a 3D puzzle. "Is that why you never talked to anyone? Before me?"

Flag folded the papers in their binder and pushed it aside, giving in to my persistent jabbering. "Call it what you will; but I have trust issues. I know the protocols of confidentiality and all that-but the shrinks have no idea what it's like to be out there. They can watch Hacksaw Ridge and think they understand. But what we do is real. _And_ permanent."

Last night all the walls were down… almost all. I didn't know if we were still being as candid today. It left me tongue-tied. I waited for him to speak.

He turned to smirk at me. "What, no twenty questions today?"

"Do my questions bother you?" I asked, relieved.

"Not as much as your reactions do." He looked like he was joking, but I couldn't be sure.

I frowned. "Do I react badly?"

"No, that's the problem. You take everything so coolly — it's unnatural. It makes me wonder what you're really thinking."

"I always tell you what I'm really thinking."

"You edit," he accused.

"You don't want to hear it," I mumbled, almost whispered. As soon as the words were out, I regretted them. The pain in my voice was very faint; I could only hope he hadn't noticed it.

He didn't respond, and I wondered if I had ruined the mood. His face was unreadable as he sipped his coffee once more. "Another reason I only talked to you and not them, is because you know what death looks like. You stood at the gates."

"My friend died in my arms. I'll never get his blood off my hands. You know, every day I look down and I can imagine it." I half expected Flag to look at me as though I had lost my sanity all together, but he simply nodded. I think he understood better than what I gave him credit for.

And that he didn't watch me out of the corner of his eye, waiting for me to do something that would mark me as crazy or depressed.

"I wish I were you." He replied in a soft voice.

"Why?" I asked, completely an utterly confused. Why would anyone want to be me? Half the team doesn't like me, my family doesn't even know where or what I am, and my best friend was KIA (Killed in Action). What was there about me that had even appealed to him at all?

"Because you have nothing to lose. I have a thousand ghosts in my head. This life is normal; but it isn't."

The Colonel was beginning to make a lot of sense. I was turning to another screwed up soldier, and only a few months in. They wouldn't fix me, and it was time I accepted it. "As a soldier, it's your instinct not to feel. No guilt and shame. No regret. But I tell you what I see in you, Major,"

My eyes widened in expectation. If anyone saw something in me, would I be surprised, or disappointed?

"It's your fire that's the weapon."

Effortlessly, without a conscious command to the muscles around my lips, my answering smile spread across my face. A strange feeling of warmth bubbled up in my throat. "A little gun don't stop the devil," I laughed.

Though his eyes were still anxious, the crooked smile I loved best flashed across his face.

"I admire your determination. On the outside, you maintain this staunch attitude and you don't give a fuck. So no one even knows the pain you're suffering. I know, because I did the same thing. On the outside, no one would even think that losing Kowalski really hit you hard."

I nodded slightly and stood up to place the now empty mug in the sink. Leaning against the counter, I stared outside at the empty base. Everything seemed much brighter after talking things through with Flag, and I very much doubt anyone else would have had the same effect on me.

"I'm probably not the best role model to be honest with you. But I can only try right? And missing Kowalski isn't a bad thing. It can make you stronger."

My head bowed as I thought about it. Make me stronger? I could barely live through it.

He stood up to stand next to me and put one big arm around me comfortingly. "It's what we're made for, Jaz. We're strong, too. I wish you would have told me that you were so alone. You didn't need to be."

"If you weren't around," I mumbled, lost in thought. "I may have not decided to come back."

"I'm glad. Because I did wonder for a while if you had decided you weren't strong enough to go on. I'm glad I didn't have to try to talk you back into re-joining us."

"I'm sorry you thought that. I would never abandon the team. It's not in me to do that, it never even crossed my mind."

It was very quiet. For a minute I could hear the beating of his heart, quick and even.

"Tell me the worst part for you," he whispered.

"I think that might be a bad idea."

"Please."

"I think it will hurt."

"Please."

How could I deny him anything at this point?

"The worst part . . ." I hesitated, and then let words spill out in a flood of truth. "The worst part is that I saw the whole thing - our whole lives, but now Kowalski is missing from it. And I want it bad, Flag, I want it all. I want to stay right here and never move. I want the nightmares to stop and I want to carry on as if nothing happened. But I can't, and it's killing me. It's like you - I never had a choice. I always thought nothing would change. Maybe that's why I was fighting against myself so hard."

He seemed to be concentrating on breathing evenly.

"I knew I shouldn't have told you that."

He shook his head slowly. "No. I'm glad you did. Thank you." He sighed. "It'll be good now."

I looked up, and he was smiling. And the emotions that were emanating from him was like nothing I'd ever felt before.

When I walked into the gator cages on Monday to restock the batteries and hydrogel, Ellis was sitting in the back table, nearly bouncing off her seat in agitation. I reluctantly went to sit by her, trying to convince myself it would be better to get it over with as soon as possible.

"Tell me everything!" she commanded before I was in the seat.

"What do you want to know?" I hedged.

"What happened the other night?"

"We went to Kowalski's site. And we talked." I watched Hayes slither out the door, but Perry and Spenser were still talking inside Spenser's gator cage lowly. They were in earshot, so I mumbled my answers.

She glared at me, her expression stiff with scepticism. "How did you get back so fast?"

"He drives like a maniac. It was terrifying."

"Was it like a date — did you tell him to meet you there?"

I hadn't thought of that. "No — Flag and Hayes took me there."

Her lips puckered in disappointment at the transparent honesty in my voice. "So are you going out again?" she probed.

"He offered to drive me to the market Saturday because he thinks my truck isn't up to it — does that count?"

"Yes." She nodded.

"Well, then, yes."

"W-o-w." She exaggerated the word into three syllables. "Colonel Rick Flag."

"I know," I agreed. _Wow_ didn't even cover it.

"Wait!" Her hands flew up, palms toward me like she was stopping traffic. "Has he kissed you?"

"No," I mumbled. "It's not like that."

She looked disappointed. I'm sure I did, too. "What did you talk about?" She pushed for more information in a whisper. Most of the men had left for the gym, Spenser and Perry weren't paying close attention and we weren't the only ones still talking.

"I don't know, Nicole, lots of stuff," I whispered back. "We talked about my family little." A very, very little. I think he mentioned it in passing.

"Please, Trig," she begged. "Give me some details."

"Well… okay, I've got one. On Saturday I ran into Flag at the barracks, and we talked things through. I had no idea he could be so wise, for someone so young. Talking to him makes me feel better."

"Even better. He must like you."

"I _think_ so, but it's hard to tell. He's always so cryptic," I threw in for his benefit, sighing.

"I don't know how you're brave enough to be alone with him," she breathed.

"Why?" I was shocked, but she didn't understand my reaction.

"He's so… intimidating. I wouldn't know what to say to him." She made a face, probably remembering the overwhelming force of his eyes.

"I do have some trouble with incoherency when I'm around him," I admitted.

"Oh well. He _is_ unbelievably gorgeous." Ellis shrugged as if this excused any flaws. Which, in her book, it probably did.

"There's a lot more to him than that."

"Really? Like what?"

I wished I had let it go. Almost as much as I was hoping he'd come in the door and put this conversation on its end.

"I can't explain it right… but he's even more unbelievable _behind_ the face." The killer who wanted to be good — who ran around saving people's lives so he wouldn't be a monster… I stared toward the front of the room.

"Is _that possible_?" She giggled.

I ignored her, trying to look like I was paying attention to Spenser.

"So you like him, then?" She wasn't about to give up.

"Yes," I said curtly.

"I mean, do you _really_ like him?" she urged.

"Yes," I said again, blushing. I hoped that detail wouldn't register in her thoughts.

She'd had enough with the single syllable answers. "How _much_ do you like him?"

"Too much," I whispered back. "More than he likes me. But I don't see how I can help that." I sighed, one blush blending into the next.

"Well, I think it's great. He'll be all loved up and it will take the fire off us. And I think you need someone to talk to now that Kowalski is gone."

I nodded, and stood up in a hurry. "I've got a lot to do."

"Sure. Tell me about it later." Ellis got up and left, finally leaving me to get on with the task at hand. I replaced the batteries in all of the digital units, the comms, night vision, lasers, pretty much everything even if they didn't need it. I even decided to restock the bullets in each magazine. By then, I looked up and everyone was gone. But inside the door, leaning against the wall — looking more like a Greek god than anyone had a right to — Flag was waiting.

"Sorry, I'm done now. I'll get out of your way." I stepped out of the cage that wasn't been assigned to anyone yet- Since Kowalski was gone, and I hadn't been replaced. I wasn't even sure if they were going to replace me either.

"Not necessary," he said, unfolding his arms. "I need you back on duty. Any chance of getting cleared?"

He seemed so different from the man I talked to on the weekend, making me think my dream was totally made up.

"I have to see the physician later today, I will let you know what the verdict is." I sighed.

"You feel up to it? You looked fine in the gym earlier." Flag looked down at me from his enormous height.

I nodded. "Not 100%, but pretty close to it. I have more movement in my shoulder now."

Flag stood up straight, off the wall. "It would be great to have to back on board."

"Thank you sir," I pushed past him and escaped, feeling awkward.

I didn't get him- he was cold and arrogant one minute, then suddenly he wants to be my best friend? Then back to his stone cold cover-up.

No one could replace Kowalski… _ever_. But it was inevitable that he will be replaced. For the last two months, some poor souls in Green Team have been covering for me and Kowalski.

I was happy to know Flag was waiting for me to return, it must have been hard for the entire team to continue without two vital members _again_. At the same time, I relived that they wouldn't have been as affected this time, not knowing us for that long and we hadn't really bonded.

I sat outside in the sun, and pulled out my phone flicking through the photo gallery. Mostly photos of Green team, and some of Kowalski and I. My last visit with Andy at home in Florida was there too.

But I flicked back to Kowalski and me, and we were laughing. I couldn't remember the joke-but it was enough to make me hysterical. I sighed, staring at the screen, brooding.

"Hey, are you okay?" Hayes asked, sitting down on the bench beside me.

I quickly looked up, surprised. "Yeah of course."

"Messages from home?"

"No. just looking at photos of Kowalski. I miss him, that's all."

Hayes looked at me sadly. "I'm sorry you missed the service, Trig. It was beautiful. You would have loved it."

"I'm kinda glad I wasn't there," I joked. I winced at the thought.

Hayes put his arm around my shoulder, but I shrugged it off. "I don't need your pity, Hayes. I'm fine."

"Are you sure? It's hard to tell with you."

I scoffed.

"You have this _face_ and it reminds me of Flag. You don't have to turn into another version of him. We're all here for you. _I_ am here for you."

How could I not turn into another version of Flag, when I was already there?

Hayes had no idea what Flag was capable of.

"You don't have to be there for me." My voice was angry. Hayes was trying to downplay Flag as a bad guy? This was really upsetting me, Flag was the nicest one of them all, and that infuriated me even more. Who did this soldier think he was?

"I just want to help," he started defensively.

"Well don't. And talking down the Colonel like that will only make you look worse to me."

I snapped at Hayes. I stood up and turned to leave, bumping into Flag.

He opened his mouth to say something, but I pushed past him and ignored the lingering stares. I could also guess what Flag had overheard while I'd been yelling at Hayes. My face burned with chagrin.

I walked forward without thinking. I could not do anything else. I had to keep moving. If I stopped looking for him, it was over.

Brotherhood, life, meaning… over.

I walked and walked. Time made no sense as I pushed slowly through the thick grass. It was hours passing, but also only seconds. Maybe it felt like time had frozen

because the desert looked the same no matter how far I went. I started to worry that I was traveling in a circle, a very small circle at that, but I kept going. I stumbled often, and, as it grew darker and darker, I fell often, too.

Finally, I tripped over something–it was black now, I had no idea what caught my foot–and I stayed down. I rolled onto my side, so that I could breathe, and curled up on the dry bracken.

As I lay there, I had a feeling that more time was passing than I realized. I couldn't remember how long it had been since nightfall. Was it always so dark here at night? Surely, as a rule, some little bit of moonlight would filter down through the clouds, and find the ground.

Not tonight. Tonight the sky was utterly black. Perhaps there was no moon tonight.

It was black for a long time before I heard them calling.

Someone was shouting my name. It was muted, muffled by the sand that surrounded me, but it was definitely my name. I didn't recognize the voice. I thought about answering, but I was dazed, and it took a long time to come to the conclusion that I _should_ answer. By then, the calling had stopped.

There was a knock on my door, and I heard my name on the other side.

"Yeah," I yelled, sitting upright.

Flag walked in, and closed the door behind him. "Hey, Jaz"

"Hey," I replied, sliding my legs over the side of my bed. They hit the cold wooden floor.

"Sorry, if I woke you." He said, sitting in the patient's chair.

I shook my head. "It's okay, I'm glad you did." I smiled. It had been two months since the explosion, and I had been confined to strictly medic obligations until I was cleared for duty. Since then, Flag was a frequent visitor to my clinic. Says he doesn't like the attitude of the hospital personnel. Remembering this made me smile.

"Kowalski." He whispered.

I nodded.

Last night had been particularly brutal, even after the pain had subsided enough for me to sleep, it wasn't over. Like I'd told Flag after I left the hospital wing, there was never any doubt that I would have nightmares.

I always had nightmares now, every night. Not nightmares really, not in the plural, because it was always the _same_ nightmare. You'd think I'd get bored after so many weeks, grow immune to it.

But the dream never failed to horrify me, and only ended when I woke myself with screaming.

My nightmare probably wouldn't even frighten someone else. Nothing jumped out and screamed, "Boo!"

There were no zombies, no ghosts, no psychopaths. There was nothing, really.

Only nothing.

Just the endless maze of sandy hills covered in dead grass, so quiet that the silence was an uncomfortable pressure against my eardrums.

It was dark, like dusk on a cloudy day, with only enough light to see that there was nothing to see.

I hurried through the gloom without a path, always searching, searching, searching, getting more frantic as the time stretched on, trying to move faster, though the speed made me clumsy…

Then there would come the point in my dream–and I could feel it coming now, but could never seem to wake myself up before it hit–when I couldn't remember what it was that I was searching for.

When I realized that there _was_ nothing to search for, and nothing to find. That there never had been anything more than just this empty, desert, and there never would be anything more for me… nothing but nothing…

That was usually about when the screaming started.

"The op went well, but I have a new wound." He pointed to a gash across this nose like a small child to his mother. He was kind of showing it off, actually.

I grinned. "You don't need a medic for that, Rick."

He stood up and took off his shirt, and pointed to another wound on his side, just above his stomach. He looked at me with a straight face. "This one is worse."

But my eyes were riveted on him, and I saw the muscles in his chest tighten.

I was in shock of how perfect his body was—tanned, smooth, and polished as marble. I ran my eyes down his thick chest now, tracing across the flat planes of his stomach, just marveling.

A light shudder rippled through him, and I looked away.

My fingers fumbled to gather what I needed to treat the wound.

He smiled slightly, and I was suddenly looking at a charm I wasn't at first sure I saw. Not that I was necessarily attracted to it, but there was something there.

 _I wonder_ , I thought slowly, _would I be able to fall in love with someone I hardly know? Someone I tried to_ avoid? _Love? Is this what it feels like?_

Maybe I would just love Rick Flag more than anyone in the history of the world had ever loved anyone else.

I could live with that.

When I turned around, he smiled. "I like it when you call me Rick."

I was nervous again as I watched the thick muscles in Flag's arm roll, but I kept my face smooth.

"First name basis." I laughed. "They boys would think we're friends or something. How odd would that be?" I sat in my chair and turned to grab the disinfectant and a swab.

"We're friends, aren't we?" He asked timidly.

I shrugged. "I guess so,"

"Well, I call you by your given name rather than nickname," He answered politely.

"Because all commanders do?" I smiled weakly, and began to dab his wound with the disinfectant, hoping it would sting. But he didn't even flinch.

I grunted and gave up. "You're not here for that, are you?" I figured it out. It looked fresh and it would need stitches, but he didn't seem bothered by it.

I loved the emotion I saw playing across his eyes. It was something close to smugness and awe. Could he really be so surprised I'd finally figured it out?

"I came to see you, actually. You look better, at least. Besides, I needed to make sure I wasn't going to get infected by some airborne disease that'll turn me into those zombies Taylor keeps talking about." He laughed.

I giggled, imagining that was exactly what Taylor would have said. "You'll need stitches."

Flag sighed. "Okay." He grunted. "I don't need anaesthetic."

My eyebrows flew up in surprise. Was he just showing off now?

I prepared the supplies, and leaned close to examine his wound. . It was the same exquisite scent that clung to his jacket, but in a more concentrated form. I blinked, thoroughly dazed. He leaned away.

I was unable to move until my brain had somewhat unscrambled itself. I could feel the shock frozen on my face, and I tried to compose it. I doused a gauze pad with alcohol, and dug it into the wound with one finger, making sure it was clean before I began stitching.

"How are you doing, Rick?" I asked, looking at his face to see is he was in pain. Flag's face was like stone.

"I'm fine." His voice was reasonably steady, which pleased me. But his jaw was rigid; his eyes burned with the intensity of the sharp hook.

I could feel the faint stirrings of unease in the pit of my stomach, but I was determined not to let my usual squeamishness get the best of me.

The only sound besides our quiet breathing was the soft grunts from Flag's chest each time I punctured a new hole on either side of the wound.

"How can you do this?" I demanded, no daring to look at him now. Not many people could tolerate stitches without anesthetics.

Clearly, this was much more difficult than he made it seem.

"Years and years of practice," he told me. My hands paused, and my eyes panned his skin for scars, and he had plenty of them.

"You try very hard to make up for something that was never your fault," I suggested while a tugging the thread through his skin. "What I mean is, it's not like you asked for this. You didn't choose this kind of result, and yet you have to work so _hard_ to be successful."

"I don't know that I'm making up for anything," he disagreed lightly. "Like everything in life, I just had to decide what to do with what I was given."

"You make it sound too easy." I examined his wound again. "There," I said, snipping the thread. "All done." I wiped an over sized Q-tip, dripping with some syrup-coloured liquid, thoroughly across the operation site. The smell was strange; it made my head spin. The syrup stained his skin.

"In the beginning, though," I pressed while I taped another long piece of gauze securely in place, sealing it to his skin. "Why did you even think to try a different way than the obvious one?"

His lips turned up in a private smile. "It seemed like a natural selection to me. Service runs in the family." His face was suddenly serious again, and I wondered if his thoughts had gone to the same place that mine had. Wondering what I would be thinking when–I refused to think _if_ –it was me.

I nodded and put the supplies away. "Doc says I'm squared away," I changed the subject, trying not to look at him. But I failed miserably. He was doing this on purpose. I ran my eyes down the contours of his chest, and there was a catch in my breath as I turned away.

"That's great news," he said and sighed. "I hope Andy has forgiven me."

My eyes narrowed. "He hasn't, and he still won't tell me why he punched you." I wasn't about to let on that Andy had disowned me completely. A conversation I was so willing to avoid, in case he figured out the reason why. I turned back around, hoping he put his shirt back on, but he didn't.

Flag bit his lip. "It's nothing."

"So you keep saying." I folded my arms. I decided it was safe enough to look into his eyes, but I wouldn't let myself look any lower.

"Fine," he gave in. "He punched me in the face, because I had to…" His face went red.

This made me fight back a smile.

"I had to remove your vest and shirt to stop the bleeding on your shoulder. And you arrived at the hospital wing without a shirt. But I didn't remove anything other than that." It almost looked like he was blushing, but it was hard to tell when he looked away from me. "Your uh…undergarments were intact but blood stained I'm sorry."

I laughed humorlessly to myself, still gasping for air. "Rick Flag, the first man in Alpha Dogs to take my clothes off." Now there was a hopeless proposition.

The dark humour distracted me, and the distraction eased the pain. My breath came easier, and I was able to lean back against the seat. Though it was cold today, my forehead was damp with sweat.

I concentrated on my humour to keep from sliding back into the excruciating memories.

Flag looked back at me, face flushed. "It wasn't like that." He said seriously.

"I'm sorry, I can't believe he punched you just because of that." I sobered. "I mean… you were the one who got me out of there. You saved my life." I was now feeling a little less awkward standing in a small room alone, with a half-naked man. I decided he wasn't going to try anything, and I was at ease.

Flag shrugged. "Do you think it makes up for everything else?" His eyes slowly moved from my nervous hands to my face.

"Yes, absolutely."

Flag's eyes brightened at my words. He was smiling so big it looked like it would hurt his cheeks. "You know, I was worried I had lost you that day."

"Oh no, your favourite medic." I rolled my eyes.

He didn't reply.

I lightly traced my finger along one of his scars on his chest. "What's this from?" I asked, looking up at him.

"A Somali rebel with a machete, he killed half of an innocent family by the time I got there. This is what it took to save the other half." he answered nonchalantly, taking my hand off his chest.

His warm hand enclosed around mine, and he rubbed my fingertips with his.

We stared at each other for a very long time. His olive green eyes had specks of gold in them, something I hadn't noticed before.

It was quiet except for our shallow breaths, although I was 100% positive he could heart my heart trying to beat its way out of my chest. Finally, his expression softened.

"When you look into my eyes," he paused. "What…what do you see?" He placed my hand against his cheek and held it there.

I was suddenly hyper-aware that Flag was standing less than a foot from me. I was stunned by the unexpected electricity that flowed through me, amazed that it was possible to be _more_ aware of him than I already was.

A crazy impulse to reach over and kiss him, to stroke his perfect face just once, nearly overwhelmed me.

I was losing my mind.

His face startled me — his expression was torn, almost pained, and so fiercely beautiful that the ache to kiss him flared as strong as in Friday night's dream.

"I see someone who wouldn't let anyone outside the job understand. Because it's better to only share with someone on the inside, who already knows." I stopped to think to myself.

Why was Flag suddenly so nice to me? Even before Kowalski was taken from me, he was the only one to take me seriously.

He was the first one who got to me after the explosion. The only one in the room when I woke up. The one who consoled me and made me understand…

Red flags shot up in every part of my head as I remembered he was the _only_ one who knew about my mother. The only one who referred to me as Jaz and not my pet name.

"You really do care about me?"

"I don't know why." He laughed nervously. "I like the way you look at me. No one admires me like you do."

He was right about that too. I did admire him. But for his skill and tact, and because he respected me more than the other Seals. I let out a quick breath.

Flag took one step closer to me, and looked down at me. Beads of sweat was dripping down the side of his face, but I could still smell his after shave. "I was hoping you felt the same way."

I had no reply. No smart mouthed or crude remark to spit back. I knew he was right. How did I feel about him, and a man I only gotten to know two months ago?

 _Did_ I want to? What kind of signals was I giving off that gave the impression I was remotely interested? I knew I couldn't hold this off forever. What if I gave in to the temptation? I hadn't made that decision yet.

At least I was comfortable around him, and that was a start.

it was one of those things that were too good to be true.

But it _wasn't_ too good to be true. Which was fucking phenomenal. And it wanted it, I wanted _him_ because it had been a long time since I'd felt so light and buoyant.

The rarity of the feeling made it more difficult to manage.


	11. Chapter 11 Mayhem begins

I bit my lip, embarrassed. "I've never loved anyone," I admitted.

"You do," he said softly, making my fingertips trace his cheeks. "You just don't know it."

We fell silent, staring again.

"When I look into your eyes, I see you looking back at me and… no one has looked at me like that for a long time." My voice burned with regret.

This was it, I had opened myself too far, now he knew my little secret. This sent a pain through my chest-but nothing like the gaping hole my grief for Kowalski had left behind.

"I'm sorry I didn't find you sooner." He looked back at me as if he could see my soul, too, and as if he liked what he saw.

His impossibly long lashes fluttered as his eyes moved from my eyes to my lips, then back again.

I felt as his lips pressed with a feather-light touch and the pain was dulled by the warmth it gave. I took a deep, shuttering breath as I tried to control my thoughts. When his lips pulled away and cold air hit my head I found myself wishing he would kiss me again...anywhere.

 _Stop thinking like that, you barely know the man._

He crushed his lips on mine.

Flags lips were still before mine were. I opened my eyes and he was staring at me with surprise and delight.

Finally, he let go of my face and leaned away, staring at me with his olive eyes wide and earnest. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to attack you like that,"

I just looked at him-I couldn't think of anything to say. He kissed the back of my hand, and then my forehead, each time it was like an electric shock to my long dormant heart.

The sound of its beating seemed to fill the entire room.

It was heaven–right smack in the middle of hell.

"I can't keep myself away from you anymore."

There was a catch in my breath. "So don't." I whispered.

Rick's eyes sparkled at the words and smiled down at me, waiting for me to lean up and kiss him - show him the new emotion that I'd realized existed. But you see, I'm not what you would call a traditional girl.

I think the only way to describe what I did would be to pounce on him. Attack him. Throw myself onto him - other such violent verbs.

He watched me warily, but didn't say anything. It looked like the words had been taken from him. His jaw stayed slack as I rushed up to him and, holding eye contact, grabbed his face in my hands, and crashed my lips into his. He leaned back to sit onto my bed, letting me climb onto his lap.

His arms finally found me, and he kissed back as though he were unsure at the beginning. I grasped his hair in my hands. I finally allowed myself to have him.

His smouldering eyes held a lot of different things I wasn't used to - the lust there was overpowering and of course the shock that I was being so forceful.

His arms wrapped around me, holding me against him, summer and winter.

It felt like every nerve ending in my body was a live wire.

Late morning, maybe afternoon, I wasn't sure. Everything besides the time was clear.

I was too happy to change nothing, no matter how small.

The only sounds were the footsteps and roar of truck engines outside, our breathing, heartbeats.…

I was comfortable, even with Flag's body intertwined with mine. His warm skin was the perfect antidote to the cold.

His arm wound around me, felt very easy and natural. I wondered idly what I'd been so panicky about yesterday. My fears all seemed silly now.

His fingers softly trailed down my leg, and I knew that he knew I was happy.

I gazed into his relaxed green eyes, and stroked my fingers around his neck, holding myself closer to him.

He didn't speak; his fingers moved up and down my leg, barely touching it as he lightly traced patterns on my skin.

We'd stared at each other for what seemed like a long time, staring at what neither of us could live through losing: the other.

I saw my reflection glimmer in his agonized eyes as the sun touched my own skin.

His eyebrows moved an infinitesimal bit, then his lips.

I would have been happy to lie here forever, to never disturb this moment, but my mind had other ideas.

"How much trouble am I in?" I asked in a small voice.

"Heaps," he said, but he smirked at me.

I breathed a sigh of relief. "I _am_ sorry," I said. "I didn't mean… Well, I don't know exactly what that _was_ last night."

His eyes fell to me lips and stayed there.

"I never asked you…" I murmured.

Flag hummed in reply.

"Did you get Ghani?"

He sighed. " _I_ didn't. You did."

I dragged myself off his arm to kiss him.

He kissed me back, but not in a way that made me think I was winning. It was more like he was being careful not to hurt my feelings; he was completely, maddeningly in control of himself.

Gently, he pulled me away after a moment and cradled me against his chest.

"We're doing a memorial at the bar tonight. I assume you'll be there?" He asked softly.

"Of course I will." I stared, thoughtfully, watching his lashes flutter against his cheek. "Why do you call me Jaz?"  
Flag chuckled. "I don't know-I guess I wanted a reaction out of you. Does it offend you?"

"No, I like it when you say it," i smiled.

"Good." He shifted from under me, and grabbed his clothes.

I stared at his bare naked body, and marvelled at what I'd just had with him. But maybe it would end here. Had he got what he needed off his chest.

"I will see you at the Silver Bullet tonight then." He grinned, buttoning his shirt.

I sank back into my pillow, pulling the sheet over me. "Yeah." I was afraid to ask what was going to happen with us now.

He leaned over the bed to kiss my forehead. "I have debrief."

I suspected that excuse had been nothing but fact. "Okay."

He smiled and walked out the door, closing it carefully.

I sighed, hugging the sheet as a large smiled spread over my face.

"I know I'm not exactly Freud, but it's pretty clear to me you and Flag are closer than you let on." Ellis sat on freshly made bed as I folded my fatigues.

I looked at her in the corner of my eye.

"You're afraid he's going to do an Elvis."

"What's an Elvis?" I asked jokingly.

Ellis sighed. "Forgetting what happened between you two."

I rolled my eyes. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes I do. I know what I saw."

I went rigid. "Saw what?"

"Him leaving your barracks and trying to sneak to his office."

Crap.

"That- he needed stitches after he got back from the op."

"What op?" Ellis grinned. "Ohhh, that one. Accidental wound."

I frowned. "What are you talking about?"

Ellis fought back a smile. She liked Flag secretly, or she wouldn't bring it up every chance. "Hayes stabbed him with a broken beer bottle, I saw him. On our way back from green team scouting."

"You're not making sense, Nicole." I barked.

"There was no op," she giggled. "All of us went scouting for Kowalski's replacement."

There was no reason for me to get worked up. I didn't need to be mad at Flag - I would be angry enough for two when see him next.

"Why is it that everyone keeps me out of the loop? I'm on sabbatical, not retirement!"

Ellis flinched back and bit her lip. I could see that my words had hurt her, but I was too mad to feel bad about that yet.

"I'm telling you now," she muttered, his voice almost inaudible.

"So that explains the nose, then."

Ellis licked her lips and made herself comfortable, watching me as I folded just about everything I had. "Hayes and Flag had a fight. Flag won."

"W-why? And why wasn't I there?"

"Blackburn said it would be best if you weren't there. Kowalski can never be replaced, Trig."

I nodded slowly. Made sense, as me being there would be a conflict of interest. I would have said none of them were good enough. "So why were they fighting?"

Ellis rolled her eyes. "Hayes didn't like the way Flag was spending so much time with you,"

My eyebrows pinched. "He noticed."

"Flag has been watching you like a hawk since you got out of the hospital wing, and he was caught spying on you at the gym. I think Hayes has the hots for you. That's why they were fighting."

"Good. I hope they both got what they deserved." I mumbled. I would confront Flag about his deception later.

She frowned more deeply. "Too much testosterone in this team. Alpha Dogs are by far the worst for bar fights. Their endless bickering goes against nature."

I stared at her for a long moment with one eyebrow raised incredulously. It was a while before she noticed.

"What?"

"Speaking of unnatural . . . ," I hinted.

"Trig," she said, her voice slow and different. Aged. I realized that she sounded suddenly older than me - like a parent or a teacher. "I'm the General's niece, the guys take no notice of me. I'm not fair game like you are." she looked up at me, her black eyes unreadable - "I've been jealous of from day one, you get all the attention."

"Jealous," I repeated scathingly, rolling my eyes. "Right."

"It's embarrassing. You see, at first, I was mostly jealous because he wanted _you_ and not me."

Her words sent a thrill of fear through me. Sitting there in the sunlight, she was more beautiful than any woman I could imagine. I could not compete with Nicole Ellis.

"He's irritated at me from the first moment he heard me speak. You have to understand, though . I was so used to people wanting _me_. And Flag wasn't the least bit interested. It frustrated me, even offended me in the beginning. But he never wanted anyone, so it didn't bother me long. And then he met you." She looked at me with confused eyes. I was only half paying attention.

I was thinking about Flag and _all those men he lost,_ and my lips pressed together in a hard line.

"Not that you aren't pretty, Trig," she said, misreading my expression. "But it just meant that he found you more attractive than me. I'm vain enough that I minded.." She broke off, chuckling nervously. "So, if you are going to run off and abandon him, can you please let me know first? Because… I'd be all over that boy."

I laughed. She finally admitted her feelings for Flag. "I'll give you first dibs." I looked at her grin and sobered. She wasn't kidding. "I'm not running away, Nicole."

"You can't bullshit a bull-shitter, Trig. I know exactly what's going here, okay? I did a GC Doctorate in psychology."

Of course she did. She was head of the tactical team that gets us through the ops. And I think she enjoyed playing super sleuth. Ellis must've had a crush on Flag for some time before I came along. But did it hurt her to see him with someone else and not her?

"Look, would you mind buggering off so I finish my kit, please." I sighed. I wasn't one for girl talk.

"So are you going tonight? The team were made to wait for you to do it. We can do karaoke!" Her eyes lit up.

I shook my head firmly. "I don't do karaoke."

Her shoulders slumped in disappointment. "But you're going?"

"Yes," I barked.

She smiled widely. "Perfect. What are you going to wear?"

I looked at the fatigues I was in, and shrugged. "This, I guess."

"No! You have to look nice."

I groaned. "This is unfair I don't do nice."

"Make an effort, please?" She begged.

My eye rolled in surrender. "Fine. I'll see you soon. Now get out."

"So," I turned away from the white board, and looked at the team, who were scribbling in their notepads, standing over a practice dummy, used for CPR. Some of them had basic training, but Blackburn didn't want a repeat of Ghani's op. He suggested I teach them some more advanced medic care. Taylor, Perry, Spenser and Hayes looked at a little confused as I jammed the lid on the whiteboard marker.

"On the cry of 'man down' you get to the body as soon as you can, making sure of your own personal safety first." I looked at Taylor. "Why, Taylor?"

His jaw opened, but he still looked confused. "So I don't get shot at?"

Spenser chuckled.

"Because a dead medic is no use to their platoon." I answered. "So once they are safe, and you've done your fives and twenties, proceed to the casualty. Carry out your primary survey, CABC, yeah? " I looked at Hayes and Spenser, who nodded along with their understanding.

"Catastrophic bleed," I counted the points with my fingers as I scanned their faces. "Airway," another finger. "Breathing, and Circulation. So what do we do, Perry?" I looked at him, expecting a half decent answer. These men are the best in the world, they should be able to pick up basic guidelines.

Perry snapped up straight, clearing his throat and removing the pen from his mouth. "Yeah, um. Check the airways, and make sure-"

"Airway, Perry. Airway." I corrected.

"Airway," he repeated, embarrassed.

Hayes sniggered.

"Catastrophic bleed," I started again. "Airway, Breathing, Circulation." I looked out the window, and saw Flag walking by outside, purpose behind every stride. He was heading for the barracks. "Deformities, environment exposure. Perry, airway, now."

Perry stood up to the table, preparing to check the airway of the 'patient', as I turned to see where Flag was going. He had an important brief with top secret government official, and I didn't expect him back so soon.

He walked with his back as straight as an arrow, arms swinging mechanically by his side. He wasn't looking anywhere except ahead of him as he strode by.

I was completely defeated. I was also completely mortified that everyone else's eyes seemed to catch mine.

Disturbingly enough I caught some people, who luckily weren't in the team, looking me up and down.

I decided that if they were to continue this, I would have to to deal with them. The team were laughing to each other. Some had the indecency to actually point from across the room to laugh. I even saw Hayes' jaw drop and watched the food fall out of his mouth and onto the table.

"Ellis, what did you do to Trig?" Spenser laughed.

Ellis narrowed her eyes at him. "I made her dress nice. So enjoy it, because she'd probably never look like that again."

"Save me. Find me pants." I grumbled at Spenser as I passed him to the bar.

Taylor and Spenser laughed behind me, joking about how feminine the infamous tom-boy could look.

"Hey, mate!" I yelled at the bartender. "Can I get a beer, please?" I waited, and sighed, looking around the busy bar.

It wasn't until I turned to the left-all the way at the end of the bar, Perry and Flag were casually sipping their whiskey.

Flag's head lifted slowly, and he stopped, catching my stare. I gave him a quick smile and grabbed the beer bottle that was placed in front of me. I didn't care what it was, as long as I could move away from Flag's line of sight.

I leaned away from the bar sourly. What an asshole-lying douchebag. Yes. It is possible for that to be one term, in my vocabulary.  
It seemed like he would be a hard person to hate. Flag was a nice guy, strung-out and a little miss understood, but still a good guy. Besides, I was pretty sure I was the reason for all that weird behaviour, so I couldn't really complain about it. Then again, I wasn't surprised that he went behind my back and went scouting.

Despite everything that Nicole had told me, despite how he was the one who rescued me after the explosion, how he tried to replace Kowalski without telling me...despite it all, I felt a fondness to Rick Flag that I couldn't place. I couldn't understand why I had been so excited about him the last few days.

Nicole skipped up to me, and wrapped her arms around me and pulled me through further away from the bar, I tried to nervously laugh it off but I could feel my face heating up with humiliation. "Look everybody, Trig is wearing lippy! Wait, wait for it..." Nicole quickly grabbed her cell phone and took a quick picture of me - I just know I blinked - before I could hide myself or make myself look at least a little bit out of the 'deer in the headlights' phase of the night.

I sat with the rest of the team, and grabbed one of several free shots on the table. I handed one to Nicole, who sat next to me.

"Don't make me drink without you and with him! He'll make me do the chicken dance naked or something-" I told Nicole, gesturing toward Hayes.

"Only your mind could come up with something so...plain." Hayes sneered mockingly. "That's your worst idea yet."

"No ideas," Flag said sternly, joining us. "Responsible drinking you two."

"Alrighty, Mr. Flag, sir!" Hayes saluted him lazily before he smiled and winked at me. "This kid couldn't keep up with me anyway."

I noticed the tension between Flag and Hayes now- they were extremely poor at covering up last night's event. I almost wished Ellis didn't tell me anything, but still glad she did. Now I truly saw the bigger picture.

Flag was glaring down at Hayes as though he didn't approve of his existence _at all_ , and Hayes was blatantly trying to ignore him-or piss him off, I couldn't tell which.

Taylor and Perry were eyeing up the two uneasily.

I narrowed my eyes. "Bullshit."

"Don't take the bait, Jaz. He runs at one hundred degrees, he has like an eighty-five percent advantage or something like that. Please, be good." With that, Flag walked through the crowd with a stern step and purpose in whichever direction he was headed.

Nicole leaned in my ear. "Did Flag just get social? I'm surprised he's even here. _"_

I ignored her question, looking to Hayes with narrowed eyes, but he seemed completely content with the situation. Which was just like a typical Hayes would be.

"Eighty-five percent advantage," he repeated with a smirk.

"Or something like that." I added, raising an eyebrow. "Either way, it's enough to beat you." I grabbed another shot and took it as I glared over the paper cup. "It's amazing how I'll still end up beating y'ah,"

"You're going to get me in trouble with my superior, you know." Hayes said while crossing his arms.

"You chicken?"

"Nope, I'm an Alpha Dog." He laughed at me. "I just was told that if I didn't behave, the Colonel would skin me. I don't want you to get me into shit."

 _Like he wasn't already,_ I thought.

I sighed, grabbing both of us a blue-filled paper cup and raised it in toast. "It's only if I lose."

Flag returned with a tray of whiskey shots, and set them down before us. "Alright, you girlies shut up."

We all took one glass, and held it up, anticipating a speech.

I was hoping Flag wouldn't make too much of a fuss about it, just make it short and sweet. But his solemn face suggested otherwise.

"Okay give me a second. I'm not one for speeches, but you know its never easy when we lose one of our own brothers. But you what, catching the guy that took him out, was the sweetest thing in a long time, right?" he looked right at me, raising his glass. "So here's to Mike Kowalski. Our fallen Alpha brother."

We all put our glasses to the middle and held them together.

"I got one thing to say," Blackburn added. "The best of us don't come home." He gave me a tight smile.

"To Kowalski." I said loudly.

"To Kowalski," the repeated in unison, downing their shot.

"Now remember, Kowalski used to say, 'when the drinkin' lamp is lit,'" I said.

"You should be too! Wooooh!" We all said together loudly, laughing and continuing our shots.

I chased down the shot with my beer, and decided on a refill. The jelly shots did nothing for me at all, what ever it was. I wandered slowly toward the bar, and Flag met me halfway, stepping rudely in front of me.

"You okay?" He asked.

I nodded. "Yip." I tried to dodge him, but he moved in my way again.

He put his hand on my arm, making me stop. "What's wrong? You're giving me the cold shoulder. Is it about last night?"

I bit my lip. "You lied to me, Flag."

"About what?" he croaked.

"You didn't go an op at all. You got into a fight with Hayes, and went scouting for Kowalski's replacement. Without me."

Flag rolled his eyes. "You weren't in a position to go, and I didn't want to upset you any more than you already were. I was trying to look out for you."

I sighed and snatched my arm from his grip. "I didn't ask you to."

"You don't need to be like that. I knew you wouldn't be happy with anyone we scouted, so it was best you were left out of it." He sounded like he was talking through his teeth and I scowled, walking away from him again.

"Jaz, please," he pulled my arm again, but let go as soon as I stopped.

I sighed and threw my head back impatiently.

"I don't know what I'm doing okay? I'm trying though." His eyes flickered to mine and I was surprised by the intensity behind them. They looked like they were on fire, some form of jade fire that made me look at him worriedly - was I doing something wrong? Was I so drunk that I was annoying him or making him angry?

Was I so drunk that I was doing something I didn't even realize I was doing something?

"Fine. I forgive you."

He flashed a crooked smile.

"But you need to tell me why Hayes punched you."

Flag didn't look like he was in the mood for a deep and meaningful. He simply steered me back to the table to the team, and winked. "Stay there."

"But my beer!" I shouted. Flag went into the crowd, grinning at me from over his shoulder. As he bumped into the people crowding the bar as he left.

"She's back," Taylor shouted. "I have a toast," He raised his beer, and slid me another one. Perry blew into his bottle, making a flute sound then took off his hat.

"To Chapman!" he droned.

"Oh, knock it off," I laughed.

"You saved my ass," Taylor argued.

I grinned. "Your ass is drunk."

"I'm not," Hayes replied, looking light-headed.

"And you're enabling."

Ellis giggled. "Trig," she tapped my shoulder politely. "Look," she pointed at the karaoke corner, and Flag was tapping the microphone.

I rolled my eyes and looked away, embarrassed. Oh no, he wasn't going to drag me up there was he?

"Uh-hem. This thing on?" He said into the microphone, and the entire bar fell silent.

Taylor wolf whistled, and several men at the front of the karaoke machine made loud comments about an overdue performance. Flag laughed at the cheering that followed his attention seeking question.

"I have a special treat for a friend of mine who's going through some serious stuff. Just want you to know, you're not alone. Alpha Dogs are here for you, always."

"Flag has a friend?' Someone shouted, and I burst into a laughter as well as the team behind me making snide comments.

"Oh no," Hayes buried his head in his hands unhappily.

"I would like to add, that we are proud to have Major Chapman back on duty, and we have missed you very much. We can all relax, knowing we will survive our next gun shot wound, and have our six covered." Flag raised his glass as the crowd laughed at his last joke.

My face blushed furiously,but my smile faded as I saw a glimpse of the evening news above the bar.

Breaking news flashing on the bottom of the screen, and carnage happening in a downtown city. A flaming giant had flicked the camera away. My eyes flickered down in time to see the beer bottle slip from my hand and shatter into ten thousand glass shards against the edge of the bar's tile floor.

I was perfectly still as the fragments bounced and skittered in every direction with an unmusical tinkling, all eyes on me in a second.

Flag's speech was cut off, as I stared at the shards on the floor, then back up to the tv. Flag must have seen the terror on my face as I watched the report replay the scene because he stopped talking.

The volume on the TV set went louder, and the crowd fell quiet.

 _It is a scene from a horror movie down here in Midway City, Some kind of non-human entity is attacking innocent people, killing thousands. Local police are on the scene, but it seems there is no hope, even for them. More information will come about this terrorist event as is comes through._

Flags panicked face struck me, and he dashed through the crowd as everyone hovered around the bar. "We're not moving."

Looking into his eyes was like looking out of a grave from the inside; I was buried in the terror and despair and agony of his gaze.

We all sobered suddenly, and most of the Delta Force soldiers were leaving the bar in a hurry.

For the first time tonight, I felt cold.

I barely heard the confirmation of my fears. I didn't need it. I already knew.

My eyes didn't blink, but it was as if a veil covered them; they became perfectly blank.

Only my mouth held on to my expression of horror.

"We need to get to Midway City." Perry was suddenly serious, as Flag joined the table as more people filed out, getting ready to deploy. We all knew it was coming. And the soldier's response to this kind of infraction was so automatic, it was already decided.

"No DEVGRU operators would be going out there." Flag replied.

"But we are going." I said, more of a statement than a question.

Nicole's eyes were wide with horror. "What's going on? What was that thing?"

Flag cleared his throat. "You're not going. Any of you."

"Oh, let me guess, we're not friends, you don't care about me. Something like that?" Hayes replied sarcastically rolling his eyes.

"See, this is what we soldiers do, we make neat little rows of friends wherever we go, and line up behind the cannon fodder and watch you die."

"We're _friends_?" Spenser asked in a small voice, almost happy about it.

"Don't get excited." Hayes snorted.

"Not really enough of us for cannon fodder," Perry grumbled.

I scoffed. "Do you really think you're going to beat this giant…thing all by yourself?"

"You have a lot to lose. I don't, so why won't you _listen_?" Flag's desperation came through his voice.

"Because you gave me my life back, and I have nothing else." I replied harshly.

Hayes and Ellis both looked at me then.

Flags face was still, but something flickered behind his eyes.

"Yeah, I want payback that thing is going to wipe out hundreds if not thousands of civilians." Taylor stood up from his seat and frowned. "This fight isn't just about you. We signed the same contract you did."

Spenser nodded. "I'm with Trig. We're going."

"You're not going to ground zero drunk. We wait for the call. Let Force Recon take care of it." Flag said coldly, glaring in Spenser's direction.

"Fine, we wait. 'Til then, I'm getting my kit ready." I turned to walk to the door a little too quickly just then, and lost my balance. Hayes caught me before I fell too far.

"Whoa, careful. Wouldn't want to count you out before we get to the LZ (Loading zone for choppers). You sure you're up for this?" Hayes looked at me concerned.

"I'm fine." I straightened and sighed.

The team began to file out, Ellis first. The bar was completely deserted, except a few of us inching toward the door and the bartender cleaning up the mess.

Hayes still had is hand on my bicep. "Come on Trig, I'll take you to your sleep out."

"Take your hands off her." Flag's voice was cold as ice, sharp as razors.

I turned, made wary by the tone of his voice. It was too cold, too careful. His face matched his voice, empty and hard.

"Flag," I started.

"She's tripping over her own feet," Hayes protested, not letting go. "Someone has to make sure she gets back in one piece."

I ripped my arm from Hayes. "Will you stop it? I'm not _that_ drunk. I can take care of myself."

"Looks like you're letting Flag take care of you, Trig. Just because he's your boss, it doesn't mean you can't say no."

"What?" I asked, looking at Hayes. "What are you talking about?"

Hayes scoffed. "Oh please, like you don't know."

My eyes flicked to Flag, who seemed to have frozen and held his breath as he looked at me.

"What is this about, Hayes?" I demanded.

"You can't see it can you, Trig? Ever since Kowalski died, Flag has watching you, and going into the medical cabin to see you… a lot. So if you won't tell him to back the fuck off, I will." Hayes glared at Flag.

There was Taylor and Perry braced between him and Flag, but they did not seem aggressive to me. More like they were trying to prevent the fight.

And Spenser—gangly, twenty five-year-old Spenser—had his long arms around Hayes' body, and he was tugging him away. "C'mon, Dan. Let's go. We don't want a repeat of yesterday, do we?"

I rolled my eyes. "What if I don't want him to?" I replied sharply.

"What? You _like_ him back?" Hayes barked, lunging toward Flag again, but Spenser pushed him back a few steps.

"Not again guys!" Taylor yelled. "Everyone back to barracks!"

"Now's good for me," Flag had his arms folded tight over his chest with his hands balled into fists.

I sighed. "I don't have to put up with this." I began to walk back to my bunker, but Hayes grabbed at me as I strode past. "Don't. I didn't need you to look out for me, Hayes! We're not friends." I yanked my arm back and walked away, Ellis followed.

"Touch her again and I'll kill you," Flag said, his voice so choked with rage that it was low as a whisper. His eyes, focused on Hayes, burned with fury.

Hayes was so bewildered with rage that Spenser was able to yank him a few feet farther back. "Don't do it, Dan. Walk away. C'mon."

I should be quarantined. But my idiocy would not ruin anything else tonight. I would put this away, shove it in a drawer and lock it up to deal with later.

There would be plenty of time to flagellate myself for this, and nothing I could do now would help. We were all stressed, and drunk. All would be forgotten tomorrow.

"Jaz!" Flag yelled from behind us, and Ellis stopped beside me. "Stay in the barracks tonight."

"Why?" my voice was not friendly.

He shrugged. "You're a part of the team, so you should be with the team. Besides, it'll be easier to make a quick exit if we get called out."

He made sense. "What about Hayes?" I looked over my shoulder at him as he and Spenser had a quiet conversation to themselves. Perry and Taylor weren't far behind us.

"I'll see you in the morning." Ellis waved and left us.

I shuddered from the cold outside. "I don't know-"

"It's an order, not a request. Bring your go bag." His eyes flicked to the small groups of Alpha Dogs behind us, probably checking to see if we were out of earshot. "I'm sorry, I didn't think this would happen so soon. I wanted to keep us a secret."

"Us?" I said sourly.

Flag nodded, a small smile creeping across his lips. "I thought that's what you wanted."

"I'm not doing this with you right now," my mind hadn't had much time to grasp the cold hard facts. Our team was falling apart and the world outside the base was falling into mayhem. "I'll get changed and head over." I agreed, and Flag waited outside the door of the cabin while I cleaned up and changed into my sweat pants and tank top that I usually slept in. I tied up my hair and wiped off the lipstick. I sighed at the mirror, thinking I didn't look like a Navy Seal at all.

I grabbed my go bag and headed toward the barracks. Flag accompanied me, and Hayes saw us. He didn't do anything, just stared.

"So what's that about anyway? No one is talking." I asked, pretending my earlier conversation with Ellis never happened.

Flag shrugged. "Hayes thinks he's in love with you."

"Ew." I scrunched up my nose, and Flag chuckled.

"I will call our new Alpha Dog first thing, get him out here."

I nodded. "Great idea."

Flag sighed. "Don't worry about Hayes. He won't try anything again."

I pushed up one eyebrow dubiously. "Really? After what he did to you yesterday?" I chuckled.

"Yeah. It wouldn't be fair if I beat him." He grinned.

"Fair is for dead men and losers." I mumbled, following Flag inside.

Flag chuckled, opening the door. "Get some sleep." He gave me a quick kiss on the forehead and ducked into his own quarters. Each man had a divided section of the sleeping quarters. It was small, but no door. The beds were larger and probably more comfortable than in the medical cabin.

I dumped the go bag, and crawled onto the bed, my eyes closing before my head hit the pillow.


	12. Chapter 12 Task Force X

Later, when I awoke in the dark, it was with shock. The dream had been so very real… so vivid, so sensory.…

I gasped aloud, now, disoriented by the dark room.

The mood was sombre, low distant voices rambled in the barracks. I rubbed my eyes with the back of my hand.

Then it came back to me like a tsunami. The attack in Midway City, the fight outside with Hayes… _oh shit._ Now I had to face it all.

Surprisingly, my head didn't hurt that much. Until I stood up. I braced myself against the bed until I felt confident enough to walk out of my quarters, and looked half-way human. It was impossible to shuffle into the kitchen, without frowning the entire time. The sun shining through the window was blinding.

"Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey," Spencer yelled sharply.

I grunted and avoided all eye contact until I had a mug of coffee firmly in my hand. Satisfied with the first sip, I sat at the table and looked at the curious faces. But there was one I didn't recognise. "What?" I asked coolly.

"How's your head?" Perry grinned.

I shrugged and sipped my coffee, staring away from the faces.

Taylor chuckled beside me. "Uh, Trig, there's someone you need to meet. This is Adam Carter, our new comms tech."

My eyes flicked up over my cup, where the blonde bearded man was standing. He was already in his fatigues, his blue eyes looking down at me with a friendly smile.

"Nice to meet you, Trig. I've heard a lot about you."

"Yeah, well she's off limits." Hayes mumbled into his cereal.

I pretended not to hear. "Welcome to Hell." I replied to Carter, taking the last of my coffee. There wasn't enough caffeine in the world to get me to take this on today. I spun around and refilled my mug, and Carter came closer and extended his hand.

I looked at his hand and arched one eyebrow. "That's this for?"

Carter lowered his arm slowly. "Sorry, just trying to show some respect, ma'am."

"I'm not a ma'am."

He grinned tightly. "But you are my superior?"

"So?"

Carter looked confused. "What do I call you then?"

"Trig's fine." Flag interrupted, pushing the others outside. "I'll let you two get acquainted."

The others followed Flag outside, protesting about leaving their breakfast behind.

"Look, I'm trying to make this easier for you. I'm sorry if I said the wrong thing." He reached for a coffee behind me. I looked into my mug, secretly hoping Kowalski was in there.

Disappointed, I sighed. I had to get along with this guy, despite being nowhere near close to filling Kowalski's place. "The team member you replaced… his name was Mike Kowalski. He helped me pull off more crazy shit than you could ever dream up. And then one day we walked into the wrong field. And then… that's it."

Carter sat in Taylor's chair, sipping away and listening intently.

I didn't mean to put him on a guilt trip, but it was best he knew what a huge shoes he had to fill. "The thing is, I was right beside him. I caught him when we fell." I was staring into the floor wide-eyed, and spoke with the same cold lack of emotion.

"I'm sorry." Carter said in a small voice.

I sniffed. "Yeah, so uh, you taking his place probably pushed some buttons I didn't know I had. I didn't mean to be rude."

Carter nodded slowly. "So what's the story here? The team is really tense."

I grinned. "You don't wanna know."

"But I need to know if I'm going to keep putting my foot in it."

I laughed. He reminded me of Kowalski already. "Flag and Hayes hate each other. That's all you need to know."

"You mean The Terminator outside?" he joked.

I smiled to myself. "Yeah."  
"He told me if i screw up, even once, I'm off the team. He's kinda scary."

I scoffed. This Carter guy didn't know the half of it.

Colonel Flag had been living by the sword now for about two decades. He was one of the least known important army officers in America. He had run covert operations all over the world - Asia, the Middle East, Africa, Central America, South America, the Caribbean.

The Flag was a bemused cynic. He had seen just about everything, and didn't expect much - except from his men. His gruff informality suited an officer who had begun his career not as a military academy graduate.

He was a blunt realist who avoided the pomp and pretence of upper echelon military life. Soldiering was about fighting. It was about killing people before they killed you. It was about having your way by force and guile in a dangerous world, taking a shit in the woods, living in dirty, difficult conditions, enduring hardships and risks that could - and sometimes did - kill you.

It was ugly work.

Which is not to say that certain men didn't enjoy it, didn't live for it.

Flag was one of those men. He embraced its cruelty. He would say, this man needs to die. Just like that. Some people needed to die. It was how the real world worked. Nothing pleased Flag more than a well-executed hit, and if things went to hell and he had to slug it out, then it was time to summon a dark relish for mayhem. Why be a soldier if you couldn't exult in a heart-pounding, balls-out gunfight? Which is what made him so good.

He disdained the Alpha Dogs in part because he believed hard, realistic, stair-stepped training made good soldiers, not the bullshit macho attitude epitomized by the whole Hoo-ah esprit. He had the muscular frame of a bodybuilder, and a fine, if impatient, analytical mind. Many of the Seals found him scary.

"So how long have you been in Alpha Dogs?"

"A few months," I answered crisply.

Carter raised one eyebrow. "Really? I got the impression you've been here for years."

"Why's that?"

He shrugged. "Well, Flag and Taylor seem kind of protective of you actually."

"Ugh. Don't fall for that bullshit. I look out for number one." I guzzled the remaining contents of my mug. "Word from the wise... they won't trust you until you trust them."

"Uh, guys? We're pinged." Ellis poked her head in the door.

"Finally." I mumbled, getting up from the table.

Flag bolted in. "We're going to ground zero. But there's something I have to do first."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"I'm being sent to get our back ups." Flag replied.

The others began to walk back in, and get their gear together.

"This is the story. We're being assigned to ARGUS. Amanda Waller has some kind of Task Force for us to collect so this is what we're going to do. I will meet Amanda at Belle Reve and get these guys bought to the TOB (Temporary Operating Base) in Midway City."

 _Belle Reve? Isn't that the maximum security barracks?_ I thought. _How would any Task Force be there?_

"Isn't Midway City being evacuated?" Spenser asked, shoving his Night Vision googles into his pack.

Flag nodded. "As we speak. So, I will be meeting Bravo at the FOB. But I warn you, these aren't soldiers that I'm bringing back."

"Aren't soldiers?" I repeated. "How long until we're sent out?"

"I'll meet you in two days. Until then, I need you to get to the base." Flag grabbed his Hockler & Koch rifle, cap and jacket. "I'll see you there."

THE WAR

I stood on the helicopter skid as we approached the Midway City Airport.

In the distance I could see large columns of smoke staining the clouds gray.

How much of Midway has already been destroyed? I wondered. I glanced at the news channel streaming over my cell phone. Getting up-to-the-minute intel from reporters on the ground was always faster than waiting for it through "official" channels. Government bureaucracy. Still immobilizing America after more than two centuries.

 _War has come to our country,_ the on-air reporter said. _A good part of our city has already been overrun, and we have yet to see the face of our enemy._ She paused for dramatic effect before continuing. _Too many have died, and experts fear this is just the beginning. Let's go to Walter Goodwin, standing outside of city hall, for further details. Walter…_

I shoved the phone back into its holster and marveled at the makeshift base the military had hastily set up. It looked as if it had been there for years, not hours. The tarmac was littered with inflatable tents. Air Force gunships sat on the ground. Weapons were being loaded onto them while the ground crews pumped fuel.

Everywhere I looked, armed choppers lifted off and disappeared into the cloud-shrouded city. For them the war was just beginning.

I was pretty certain I would never see any of those men and women again.

I watched as soldiers were carried on stretchers to portable hospital units that hadn't been there four hours earlier.

Medics were rushed in from nearby medical facilities to patch up the wounded so they could be sent right back into the fray.

Their injuries had barely been stitched together, let alone healed.

The chopper landed and Hayes, Carter, Taylor and I stepped off the skid and crossed the strip toward the building where the rest of Alpha Dogs and Bravo Team waited for me.

I passed a blacked-out window and noticed my haggard reflection.

I looked as if I'd been through hell, and hadn't yet made it back.

I was, standing there at the edge of the FOB, beginning to gasp.

What was the point of going any farther? Nothing lingered here. Nothing more than the

memories that I could have called back whenever I wanted to, if I was ever willing to endure

the corresponding pain–the pain that had me now, had me cold.

There was nothing special about this place without _Kowalski_. I wasn't exactly sure what I'd hoped to feel here, but the city was empty of atmosphere, empty of everything, just like everywhere else. Just like my nightmares. My head swirled dizzily.

There was no way I could have disguised the abyss I was plunging into now. How could I have explained the way I was fracturing into pieces, the way I had to curl into a ball to keep the empty hole from tearing me apart?

It was so much better if I didn't have an audience. My nerves were uncharacteristically taking over, despite me being eager to get back on the field. Perhaps it was because it was my first time in a long time I was going in without my right-hand man. This might be something I might never get used to.

I entered the complex to see the team. They looked just as drained as I was. Four soldiers, however—Ramer, Gomez, Grey, and Nate—were different from the rest.

They were muscular, oozing with confidence, covered with armor and ass-kicking weapons. Fresh meat for the fight. I'd worked with them before, the best of the best, and they'd follow orders. Without question.

Their leader, Lieutenant Edwards, went by the nickname GQ, and his combat record read as impressive. Besides being an Academy grad, and having a PhD from Stanford, GQ had been awarded a trunkload of medals. It spoke volumes that he wasn't showing off by wearing any of them now. He was the best friend of Colonel Flag.

But Flag had been in the military for most of his adult life. On paper the man sounded perfect. Over the years Flag had run across a lot of corpses who did, as well. He would reserve final judgment until after their first skirmish. GQ gave a big smile and saluted Flag with crisp precision as he approached us. "First fight I've been able to drive to," he said.

Flag nodded. "Let's hope it's not a regular thing."

I stared at him in blank astonishment.

Colonel Flag had changed radically in the last days since I'd seen him. The first thing I noticed was his hair–his beautiful hair was all gone, cropped quite short, covering his head with an inky gloss like chestnut satin. The planes of his face seemed to have hardened subtly, tightened…aged. Or maybe it was the moustache and beard he now had.

But the physical changes were insignificant.

It was his expression that made him almost completely unrecognizable. The open, friendly smile was gone like the hair, the warmth in his eyes altered to a brooding resentment that was instantly disturbing. There was a darkness in Flag now. Like my sun had imploded. This was the man I tried to hard to avoid not so many months ago.

"Rick?" I whispered.

He just stared at me, his eyes tense and angry.

"Can we talk?" I asked while I could still speak.

He put on his cap, and leaned his ear down to my face.

His face was a little calmer, but also more hopeless. His mouth seemed permanently pulled down at the corners.

I took a deep breath. "You know what I want to know."

He didn't answer. He just stared at me bitterly.

I stared back and the silence stretched on. The pain in his face unnerved me. I felt a lump beginning to build in my throat.

He didn't respond in any way; his face didn't change.

"Task Force X is something Waller dreamed up, in case the next superman became a terrorist. They're all we have to fight this… this _thing_ ," he said in a hard, husky voice.

I waited. He knew what I wanted.

"It's not what you think." His voice was abruptly weary. "It's not what I thought–I was way off."

"So what is it, then?"

He studied my face for a long moment, speculating. The anger never completely left his eyes. "I can't tell you," he finally said.

My jaw tightened, and I spoke through my teeth. "Rick, please. Won't you tell me what happened?"

"All I can tell you right now, is this is our one shot to save the entire planet. I tell you, but not now. Just go along with me, _please._ " The words were a low moan; his voice broke. His face looked as though he had enough bullshit already, and we hadn't even started. I wondered if he looked like this to intimidate the inmates that were being brought in.

We had a quick brief, and we were anticipating six felons from Belle Reve Special Security Barracks, a little known penitentiary for supervillains. I didn't believe it actually existed.

Supervillains we only heard of in the movies. If Belle Reve was real... so was the madness inside.

Rumours were that criminals can have their prison sentences reduced if they take part in the deadly missions of the Suicide Squad. Some of the more untrustworthy ones are required to carry devices that will cause maiming or death if they try to escape.

If they were too dangerous for maximum security Arkham Asylum… they were locked up there. Rumours also spoke of Lex Luther being locked inside Belle Reve.

I slid my rifle around my shoulder and crossed my arms. This was real.

GQ leaned over and dropped his voice to a whisper. "So what's in there, Rick? People are scared. I heard a squad of Rangers fast-roped off their helo, then shot themselves."

There was the sound of an aircraft, and Flag turned away, not answering him. The C-17 had landed, with Waller's recruits from the inner circle of hell. It was rolling to a stop.

 _Damn,_ I thought. _This is so wrong._

Then aloud, Taylor said to no one in particular, "They're here."

GQ knew just enough to return with dangerous snark. "I'm calling it now," he said. "This is gonna be a total goat rope. How'd you get sucked into this?"

"I don't like this any more than you do, Lieutenant." Flag couldn't turn back to answer Edwards to his face—not without betraying the depth of his own doubts. "But once we're on the objective, these assholes are mildly interesting. 'Sides, if they get their domes canoed with accidental headshots, I'll shed no tears."

GQ understood perfectly. The tail ramp of the C-17 lowered. Flag drew his pistol from its holster and checked the mag. "C'mon," he said. "Let's welcome our little choir boys to ground zero." Though they both wished they were anyplace else but here, the two of them made their way to the aircraft.

As the two walked toward the newly arrived aircraft, Flag looked back to see his men and I still lodged in the doorway, waiting for orders.

No question we were the best. If anything went south it wouldn't be because of us. "Alright, kids," he said. "Show of force time. Any of these walking targets makes a move, put a Chuck Taylor in his ass."

We gave him a thumbs up and followed. We got to the C-17 just as Harley Quinn, Deadshot, Diablo, and Croc emerged—all wearing orange jumpsuits, all shackled to their restraint chairs. Croc, still chained to the forklift, was wearing a mask designed to prevent him from using his powerful jaws.

They were wheeled down the ramp, only to stop in front of several closed black bags that were sitting on the ground. Croc and Diablo were conscious, but weren't resisting.

There were dozens of military sharpshooters positioned on rooftops and along the pathway who would trade a night with a porn star to put as much lead in their heads as their weapons could fire.

 _You just don't fight that kind of stupid over-the-top determination_ , I thought to myself.

"Alpha, Bravo Team on me," Flag walked up to Diablo. _If looks could've killed…_ "So here's how it's going down," he said, "and you better listen. We're going to remove your restraints. Anyone testing me gets a face full of brown tips."

As one, the sharpshooters disengaged their side locks.

Keys unlocked the handcuffs, the padlocks, and the shackles. They all clanked to the ground.

Harley, Diablo, and Deadshot were free.

Flag put his pistol against Croc's temple. "Okay. Unlock him."

GQ and Gomez both reacted with a queasy gulp.

Croc was more reptile than man, and I had ever seen anything like him—like it?—before.

His chains crashed to the asphalt and the two Seals quickly stepped back.

Croc massaged his wrists and turned to Flag. "Thank you," he said, almost apologetically. That startled GQ—he hadn't expected it.

Hell, I hadn't expected Croc to be able to talk at all, let alone in fluent English. Of course, even a monster like him could tell he was outnumbered.

Croc was close to six-and-a-half feet tall, and he probably weighed at least three hundred and fifty pounds. His skin was cracked and mottled, covered over with scales that made him look as if evolution had worked its way backward, creating the perfect hybrid of man and dinosaur. Though he looked as if he should be raging,

"What's that?" Harley said loudly. "I should kill everybody and escape? Is that what you want me to do? Is it?"

More than a dozen weapons were aimed directly at her head.

She looked… sheepish and tapped a finger to her temple. "Sorry," she said sweetly. "Ignore me. It was just the voices telling me what I should do." They stared, and she grinned back. "Hey, I'm kidding! Geez. Chill out. "That's not what they really said."

I shot Flag a look.

Is this really happening? Then Harley laughed.

Harley Quinn was very much alive, and she was more than ready to give thanks to her _Puddin_. With dyed-blonde hair tinged in pink, she was drop-dead gorgeous—in the prison vernacular, high-velocity sex on a stick. She was also as insatiable as she was insane. More than that, Harley Quinn was the kind of psychotic the Joker had always wanted as his pet. Sure, he loved to kill. There were few things he enjoyed more. Actually, there was nothing he enjoyed more, but for Harley, killing was only the first act, and she couldn't wait to get to acts two and three, followed by an extended curtain call. "You guys are gonna make this so fun."

Diablo looked at her strangely. Despite looking like a walking skeleton with tattoos all over his face, he looked like a regular gangster. Harmless.

Deadshot looked disturbed by what came out of Harley Quinn's mouth, but he too, looked normal. He had dark African-American skin, black curly beard and a near balding head. It seemed funny to me, that most of these characters had interesting nicknames.

Killer Croc was self explanitory, but Diablo evaded me. He didn't looked like a devil- just a skull tattooed into his own face.

Deadshot was infamous. He was the man who never misses. I read about his capture in the papers, but I never believed Batman was real.

Harley Quinn was the joker's girlfriend- mainly because of her affiliated tattoos.

GQ nodded toward Flag and pointed up and to the south.

A Blackhawk chopper was coming in. It prepared to land, and U.S. Marshals with SWAT gear jumped from its hold even before it touched ground.

A moment later a large canvas bag thudded to the asphalt. The bag squirmed as it hit ground. Something was inside. Again the sharpshooters adjusted their gun sights.

"Stand down," Flag said as he approached it. He removed his combat knife and sliced it open. A man had been folded into the bag. He was dressed in street clothes. "Been waiting for you to get here, Harkness." He looked over toward GQ. "Meet George 'Digger' Harkness, known throughout Australia as Captain Boomerang. Or Boomer. You'd need at least two reams of paper to print out his full rap sheet."

I recognized the name. "Boomer's weapon of choice was, expectedly, tricked-out boomerangs. Give him one with a razor's edge, and he could take down at least half of our Seals without breathing hard.

Harkness saw Flag glaring at him. "Flag. Rick Flag? That you? You are lookin' ripper, mate." He gave the colonel a huge hug, as if they had been best friends for years. "But I got to say, mate, what is this? One minute I'm having a nice dinner with me mum, and then this red streak hits me outta nowhere."

"Harkness, you were robbing a diamond exchange. You don't think I've been fully briefed on you?"

"Yes, of course, but we was dining on delicious Tim Tams at the time. Me mum specializes in buying them from the local bottle shop, you know. They're like heaven's throwing a party in your mouth."

Flag pushed Harkness ahead. "Shut up and get in line with the others."

Boomer turned back and grinned. "C'mon, mate. Show some respect."

"Respect is earned, Harkness. Earned."

"Well, start an account then." As they approached the rest, he gestured toward the Belle Reve inmates. "I'm seeing what I expect are numbers one through four of the FBI's most wanted." He then gestured to the Seals. "These soldier boys are carrying enough gunfire to take down most Middle East countries." Finally he gave Flag a big insincere smile. "And there's you. Mister Government Agent himself."

"That isn't the way to gain respect, Harkness."

"I'm all twisted over with shame, mate," Boomer replied. "Now, if you've recruited those Belle Reve rejects, you're probably not here playing cops. So tell me, Flag, what's all this?"

"I told you before. Shut up and behave."

Before the Australian could reply, a black SUV pulled up. The door opened and a pair of FBI agents, dressed in identical black suits with identifying lapel pins, dragged a giant of a man out of the car and pushed him toward Flag's new best friends.

He was secured by reinforced handcuffs.

I had read his dossier. He was called Slipknot, and the big bastard came equipped with an elaborate array of ropes and tackle. According to the files, there was nothing he couldn't do with them.

The lead FBI agent gave orders for the cuffs to be unlocked. As soon as they were, Slipknot thanked the agent by punching him in the gut.

He went over like a sack of potatoes, and didn't get up.

Every weapon in the area was suddenly turned toward him.

He held his wrists together, daring them to cuff him again, but Flag broke through the tension and waved him to join the others.

 _Just what we need,_ I thought. _Another deranged madman to keep track of._

As if it wasn't bad enough.

As the newcomer got in the line, Harley stared at his boots. "Hey, big guy, your shoelace is untied."

Slipknot looked down, checking, but then heard Harley's giggle. He gave her a low growl, and slammed his right fist into his open left hand.

"Shut up," Flag shouted, getting their attention. "That's enough." He stepped up to make sure they didn't miss a word. "Your necks. The injection you all got. It's a nanite explosive the size of a rice grain. It's also as powerful as a hand grenade. Disobey me, you die. Try to escape, you die. Otherwise irritate or, yeah, vex me in any way. Guess what? You die."

Their hands instinctively went to their bandages. Gently, I noticed.

Then Harley gave Flag a smirk and raised her hand. "Sir," she said, sharply saluting him. "I've been known to be quite vexing. Sir. Just forewarning you."

Flag was not amused. "Lady, shut up. This is the deal. You're going somewhere very bad to do something that'll probably get you killed. Until that happens, you're my problem, and just so you know, I got a real short fuse when it comes to dealing with problems. By the way, refuse to go on this mission? Well, you can guess what happens then. Boom!"

They waited for more, but Flag was done.

Deadshot looked to the others, then back at the Colonel. "What the hell was that?"

"That, Mr. Lawton," Flag replied, "was a pep talk. Do everything I say to the letter, or I'll kill you."

"Man, you have gotta work on this team motivation thing. You heard'a Vince Lombardi? He was the gold standard."

Hayes chuckled, and I flashed him a scowl.

Harley grinned. "I only got one question, oh great leader."

"What?" Flag waited for another smart-ass response, but she surprised him.

"You say we're probably going to our deaths," she said cheerily, "and you say if we don't do what you tell us to do you'll kill us. So, if we die either way, what's in it for us?"

"Hey. Good question, lady," Croc said. "Yeah. What's in it for us?"

Flag had been waiting for it. "The things out there that we're going to fight, well, there's always a chance you might survive. Do what I tell you, and you just might. So coming with me, you're betting on yourself. But you screw with me, you're one-hundred-percent-no-doubts-about-it dead."

Harley thought it over. "Well, even without knowing anything, I gotta say, I'm kinda intrigued." She turned to the others and grinned. "C'mon, you knuckleheads. It's rah, rah, rah time. Let's do this for the Gipper, or whoever this crazy dude is."

No one replied, but a couple of them nodded or shrugged, so Flag gestured for the Seals to open several large black Pelican cases sitting on the tarmac.

They did so, revealing the tools of trade for each of the inmates—uniforms, weapons, and more.

Everything that defined them as the bad guys they were.

"There's your shit," Flag said. "Take what you need for a fight. We're wheels up in ten."

I watched them go through the cases like Black Friday shoppers—though they weren't nearly as violent, I supposed.

"Flag, you never said they'd be armed." GQ hissed.

"Lieutenant, what I'm not telling you about this op could fill a football stadium," Flag replied as he turned away and walked off.

GQ ran to his side and reached for him. "I'm asking again. What are my men walking into?"

"You wouldn't believe me," Flag answered. He gently removed GQ's hand from his shoulder, and continued to walk away.

Harley gave a whoop as, without hesitation, she stripped off her orange jumpsuit and rifled through the black bag with her name on it. With only her underwear, it became obvious that she was muscular and fit. She sported a large tattoo on her back that let anyone staring at her—which included everyone assembled on the runway—know she was _Property Of The Joker_.

Finding what she was looking for, she hugged it close to her. As she wiggled into her uniform, she saw Floyd Lawton pull his killing suit from his bag.

He held it up, staring at it for a long time.

"Won't fit anymore, huh?" Harley said. "Too much junk in the trunk?"

Lawton frowned at her, then turned back to the uniform. "Every time I put this on someone dies."

Harley was confused. "And?"

Lawton shot her a wide grin. "I like putting it on," he said as he effortlessly became Deadshot.

"My Puddin' would approve of this." Harley put on her vest and took out the pistol from its holster. She held it up and gave a quick, sexy pose. "What do you perverts think? Something tells me a whole lot of people are going to die."

"It's us," a soft, almost whispered voice said. It came from Diablo. His head was down to avoid making eye contact. "We're being led to the slaughter."

Boomerang shook his head. "Speak for yourself, mate. I got too much to do." He reached up as though to touch Diablo's facial tattoos.

They emphasized his hollowed eyes and gaunt cheekbones, as if to leave the impression of talking to a living skull.

"And what's with this crap on your face? It wash off?"

"Not a good idea, Boomer," Harley said quickly. "I wouldn't do that if I were you." She broke the tension as she danced between them, then gave a ballet bow.

"So why's our little tat man playing with us big boys?" he asked. "And I include you in that, Harley."

"Mucho thanks, Boomer," she said. "Let's just say Diablo can put you down in less time than it would take you to surrender. Trust me."

Boomerang held up his hands, fingers splayed. "Okay. No prob then. I was just joking, anyway." He turned his attention back to Diablo. "We're on a first-nom-de-plume basis now, you and me. Aren't we?"

Diablo didn't answer.

"Silent type, huh? I got no prob with that, mate. It's a refreshing change from Her Craziness here," he said.

"Take it easy. Later then." Harley turned to Diablo and gave him a huge smile. "FYI, I think 'Her Craziness' means me—and he is so right. So anyway, tell me, if you like a girl, do you light her cigarette with your pinky? Because that would be real classy."

"Hey, can you guys not mess with him?" Deadshot checked out the assault rifles he took from his black bag. "This dude can smoke this whole damn place."

"You have nothing to worry about from me," Diablo said.

"Great. What I wanted to hear. Just gimme a heads-up if we're not cool. I mean, before you ever go all pillar of fire on me." He turned back to the bag and pushed aside the AR-15 that was sitting on top. It was a standard, but this particular one was ancient. He reached for an M4A1. Almost a machine gun, it fired 950 rounds per minute. He also kept the Heckler & Koch G36, as well as an HK416, and a few others, too. By the time he straightened up, he had enough weaponry to put down a small army, and he looked as if he knew it.

"Here we are, my lovelies." Harkness shrugged on his overcoat, already heavy with steel boomerangs. He let out a little laugh, and his eyes darted over his surroundings, determined to blow this third-world popsicle stand the first chance he got. The others were thinking exactly the same—he was sure of it.

Scheming how they could screw each other over.

Only he intended to be first in line.

Something poked him in the side, and he tensed. Then he relaxed.

Quinn was poking him with her favorite weapon—a heavy, wooden baseball bat. She glanced at the coat full of boomerangs. "Going kangaroo hunting?"

He licked his index finger and ran it down Harley's bat. "Going to a rave?"

Even in the pre-dawn hours, the field operations center was a hubbub of activity with soldiers, technicians, and agents here and there running in every direction, setting up monitoring equipment that would relay to them images taken by more than seven hundred cameras set up years earlier to monitor city traffic.

It was about to get a real test. As the day progressed, soldiers and others came and went.

Flag held his tablet up in front of the gathered inmates, so they could see Waller as she spoke. It was none too soon.

The six of them were starting to crawl the walls, madmen with pent-up emotions sitting and twirling their thumbs.

They needed something to do, something to hit, something to break, if only to stop them from turning their excess energy against the wrong people.

"You've been asking exactly what you're going to be part of," Waller began, "So let me explain." That got their attention. "There's an active terrorist event taking place in Midway City. Simply put, I want you to enter the city, rescue, and bring to safety HVT One." As she continued, Flag stared at his motley crew, and more than ever, I bet he wished he was anywhere but here.

Put him in charge of real soldiers, trained in combat, and he'd march right up to hell and break down its door himself.

But these… people… were thieves, murderers, and—literally in the case of Croc—monsters. When they got killed, nobody was going to suggest they be buried in Arlington.

Deadshot leaned over and whispered to Flag. "What's 'HVT One'? I mean, for those of us who don't speak 'be all that you can be.'"

Flag didn't bother turning. "High Value Target. Our mission."

"Okay. Fine." Deadshot shrugged. "Just wanted an idea what I'm going to die for."

Waller continued. "You are going to be rescuing the only person who matters in the city. The one person you can't kill. Complete the mission, you get time off your prison sentences, and better conditions during. Fail the mission, you die. Anything happens to Colonel Flag, I'll kill every single one of you myself. Remember, I'm watching. I see everything."

The tablet screen went blank and Flag turned to Deadshot. "There's your pep talk."

"Compared to your crap, Flag, she killed it." Deadshot clamped his wrist magnums onto his forearms and turned his arm to gauge the movement.

Flag was watching him like a hawk.

He buckled on his holster, grabbed his carbine, loaded a mag, then racked the bolt. "So that's it, huh? We're some kind of suicide squad?"

"I'll notify your next of kin," Flag said as he walked off. "Alpha, Bravo Team, load up!"

Deadshot watched him leave and by his expression, he wished he could put a round into the back of his head. He wanted Flag dead so bad he could taste it, but he also knew if he made any move against him the sharpshooters would take him down before he could take another breath, or someone would activate the explosive in his neck.

Across the runway, the Chinook-1 was being fueled even as the Chinook-2 was ready to take off.

Its turbines howled and its rotors thumped as Flag's squad were led out by GQ and Bravo team.

"Anyone else thinking this is finally getting real?" Harley asked. She looked ecstatic.

"Grow up, lady," I growled. "It's always been real."

Flag turned to GQ. "Here's where we split up. Chinook-1 will take you to your mission location. So… later?"

"Yeah. What you said. Later." GQ led his Seals to Chinook-1. These were good men. Maybe the best he'd ever served with. And in the one similarity they shared with our squad, they couldn't wait to for the action to begin.

In Chinook-2, Deadshot pulled at his chains. "So, what's your problem with us, Flag?" he said loudly enough to be heard. "We're here. We're gonna kill whatever you tell us to kill. You should be thanking us."

"My problem?" Flag responded. "You're my problem, Lawton. You and the rest of these arrogant murderers."

"You kill, too," Deadshot said. "Only difference between us is the government says in your case it's okay. And by the way, the government's telling us we can kill, too. Fact is, they want us because we kill. Kinda takes away the big dif."

"And there you're wrong, Lawton. We don't kill for personal gain. We don't kill because we want to rob a bank or blow up some building."

Lawton was enjoying this. "Personal gain? You and your soldier boys here kill to preserve your so-called way of life, and if that's at odds with how someone else sees their way of life, well, guess who gets government bullets to the head."

"You give that a lot of thought, Lawton?"

"I give everything a lot of thought, pal. I'm the best at what I do because I think through every contingency. When the wind changes, I'm the one who knows by how much." He smiled. "Anyway, about us blowing up banks where you don't—yeah, you're right. You don't. But what you blow up are whole countries. So go ahead and tell yourself we're different. Actually, I'm wrong. We are different. We don't make excuses or hide behind orders when we kill what we kill."

"Hey," Harley shouted. "We got company calling."

As the Chinook started to rise, a black-clad figure leapt inside. Asian, with straight black hair. She looked strong, and a daunting samurai sword hung at her side.

"You recruiting ninjas now?"

"Shut up, Harley. She's one of us. You're late, Katana."

Harley turned to Deadshot. "She named herself after her weapon?" Deadshot tapped his own chest, then nodded toward Boomerang.

"Wasn't the first. Won't be the last."

"This is Katana. She can cut all of you in half with one sword stroke, just like mowin' the lawn. I suggest not getting killed by her, her sword traps the souls of its victims." Flag shouted

Remaining silent, Katana took a seat and stared at Flag's squad.

Harley snickered. "You see that, Flag? She ignored you. Just like us. Way to go, girl. Hey. Name's Harley Quinn. Love your perfume. Is it the stench of death?"

Katana stared at her with cold, black eyes.

Harley covered with another laugh, but this one was nervous. "Yeah. I wouldn't want to shake my hand, either. You may not come out of it with all five fingers intact. Be a whole lot harder to use that pig-sticker of yours, huh?"

"So, you get what I'm hearing?" Boomerang interrupted. "Sounds like while Flag and his mates are being lazy bludgers, we're the ones putting our asses on the line."

"Our sacrifices will help redeem our sinful pasts," Diablo said.

Boomerang laughed. "Well, Skulls, you want to sacrifice yourself, don't let me stop you. I'm not so into redemption. My thing's cash. U.S. dollars high on the list."

Harley was incensed. "Flag's paying you for joining? Hell. I should be getting at least 79% of whatever you get. I mean, being a babe and such."

"Relax, kitten. I told him while I was doing his job, I might also check out a couple of brick-and-mortars an' see if there was anything in 'em I wanted, you know, since the city's kind of abandoned. He didn't say no, which pretty much means yes."

"Okay. I feel better now," she said, turning on a dime. "So, Alligator Guy. What about you? Why are you here?"

"I was bored," Croc said. "Fighting sounds a helluva lot better than slogging through that godforsaken sewer for the rest of existence, you ask me."

"Yeah. I get you. Killing's good," Harley agreed. "Fighting's good. Getting out of jail free, very good. I wasn't seeing a downside." Harley's little game seemed to perk them up.

They all turned to Deadshot as if it was his turn. Why not?

They were on a helicopter, flying to who knows where.

"Mission doesn't matter," he said. "Never has. I say yes to a job, I complete it. This job, I don't care who I kill or why. All I care about is getting time off my sentence. Extra days to be with my daughter again."

"And what about the newbie?" Harley said to Slipknot. "Wanna share with us? Why did you say yes? I mean beyond the neck kaboom you'd be hearing if we turned it down."

Slipknot thought for a long time before answering. "Got my ropes back, and I don't got shackles." They waited for him to continue but he had nothing else to add.

Harley finally broke the silence. "Thanks for sharing, Slippy. Good talk, guy." She turned to Diablo and gave a quick grin. "Since you've been bitching about everything, including breathing, I gotta think you joined hoping to die or something. Anyway, in the old days, when 'doctor' preceded my name, I woulda said you had a guilty conscience because of all the killing you've done. But now… you're just some off-the-charts whackadoodle who kills because, like, why not? But there's no way I'm gonna let you take me down with you. Capisce?"

"I don't want anyone else to be harmed," Diablo said. "My struggle is mine alone. My crimes are mine alone. My fate should be mine alone."

"Yeah. Whatever, Freud. Anyway, so we're doing this, huh? We're the what? Six musketeers? Or seven? I dunno. I always sucked at math."

"Six," Croc said. "Six."

"You heard the alligator. We're the Suicide Squad Six. I do like them alliterations."

As the Chinook-2 climbed into the sky, Croc nervously stared at the ground below, silently wishing he was back in the sewers. Sewers didn't crash the way choppers did. Especially in wars.

Flag strapped in beside me, and mumbled into his ear piece so the psychopaths couldn't hear. "You all right?"

I nodded. "What the hell, Flag?" I replied. "You notice these are criminals?"

"Yeah, this is what we got to work with." He groaned unhappily.

"This is some fucked up shit." I replied.

Flag nodded slowly. "So we have to _un_ fuck it."

I chuckled. "I hope you werent lying about those nanites. Gonna need them if it all turns into a gaggle fuck."

"Don't worry, just make sure they don't step out of line. I need you to lead Alpha while I'm babysitting these freaks."

I nodded. "Copy that,"

Taylor leaned forward to look down the Chinook at us. "These shits better not get any of our men killed, Flag. I mean it."

"Yeah, yeah," Flag answered.

The helicopters sped across the city, flanked by two escorting Apache gunships.

I had half expected Harley to attempt an escape just before she boarded the chopper. She was the type who'd try anything, even knowing that Flag'd remotely set off the explosives buried in her neck.

Nobody ever made the mistake of thinking Harley Quinn was the poster child for rational thought. Maybe this time she was, though.


	13. Chapter 13 Into the city

I stared out from the Chinook and saw dozens of smoky pillars scattered through the urban center, obscuring the destruction still hidden within.

What the hell was Midway going to look like once the smoke cleared, and we could see the actual devastation?

Fires were raging everywhere, burning through large swaths of the city, reducing it all to smoke and ash.

Croc, Slipknot, and even Boomerang were quiet, too, perhaps affected by the mass destruction they were seeing.

Or maybe they were finally realizing they'd been brought here to battle whatever the hell had the power to level skyscrapers.

Or, I thought, maybe they were just smart enough not to give Flag a reason to set off their neck explosives.

But it didn't matter why.

It was good enough not having to listen to them complain.

Even Harley was unexpectedly quiet. She hadn't looked at the devastation. She wasn't paying attention to the thousands of dead and dying below.

I took out my cell phone and began to look at the photos, most of which had Kowalski in them. This was the first mission without him for several years. My partner, by brother, my other half. How would I cope without his reassurance and smart alec jokes to keep the mood from being too serious?

I missed it all. The three musketeers- Kowalski, Andy and I. We were always together. Until Kowalski and I signed up to the Special Forces. My eyes flicked to Andy's face. Where was he right now? Had he been deployed abroad while all of this was happening? What if he wasn't? My fingers composed a new message without thinking. _Hey, going to Midway City. Miss you. Jaz._

I pushed send, and waited for it go through. But I ended back at the gallery, looking at the familiar faces, and the memories which seemed like so long ago now.

I concentrated on my memories of the long few weeks, of letting the humanity bleed out of me until I was more animal than human. What was I without my brothers?

I looked away from them, trying very hard not to think about what was next. So I put the phone in my pouch, but I when I looked up, Carter, Flag and Taylor were looking at me.

Flag arched one eyebrow, is face full of sympathy.

I gave him and okay with my hand, and he relaxed, but didn't look away. I had girded myself with extra ammo, stuffing magazines and grenades into every available pocket and pouch of my load-bearing harnesses, leaving behind canteens, bayonets and any other gear I felt would be dead weight on a city raid.

The prospect of getting into a scrape didn't worry me.

Not at all. I welcomed it.

For we were predators, heavy metal avengers, unstoppable, invincible. The feeling was, after weeks of diddling around I was finally going in to kick some serious ass.

As the helicopter force swept in over the city, gliding back in from the ocean and then banking right and sprinting northeast along the city's western edge, Midway City spread beneath it in its awful reality.

It was as if the city had been ravaged by some Apocalypse.

The few paved avenues were crumbling and littered with mountains of trash, debris, and the rusted hulks of burned-out vehicles.

Those walls and buildings that had not been reduced to heaps of gray rubble were pockmarked with bullet scars.

Telephone poles leaned at ominous angles like voodoo totems topped by stiff sprays of dreadlocks - the stubs of their severed wires.

I turned back slowly, and met eyes with Harley Quinn. She didn't look insane or evil-no, she had wonder in her eyes. "Hey, you, aren't you scared?"

I shook my head.

"Huh. I never knew the army had girls in it." She laughed nervously as she eyed the rifle in my hand. "Where were you born? You're not from here, are you?"

Taylor scoffed and gave Harley an antagonistic stare. "Trig wasn't born, she was government issued."

Flag smiled to himself as I rolled my eyes and looked away. I didn't want to get any closer to these freaks, even if I had to.

"Are you a Muslim?" Harley probed.

"I was raised a New Yorker." I answered flatly. It wasn't the first time someone had asked me. My mother was Cuban, my father American.

Harley grinned. "Me too!" Of course, she had the accent to match.

The two Chinooks and their Apache escorts raced over the river.

Harley looked out and saw Midway City off to the left, largely blanketed in darkness, the electricity obviously out. "No power to the people," she said, laughing.

The others didn't crack a smile. "Sour pusses. That joke would have killed, a few decades back."

Two Navy destroyers patrolled the river.

Just ahead of them she saw that the city's bridges had been downed, their spans destroyed by smart bombs.

 _What the hell did this?_ I wondered. _What the hell are we being sent here to fight?_

"You all seeing what I'm seeing?" she asked. "I mean, is this the kinda place we wanna be?" No one answered. They just kept staring at the infinite devastation below. Her eyes widened and she put her hands on the window, looking very much like an overly excited kid on a road trip.

Flag stared at the destruction too.

 _How many people were killed in that single, searing moment?_

"Terror attack," he said, trying to keep the emotion out of his voice. He almost succeeded. "Dirty bombs. Bad guys shooting everything that moved with AKs. The usual shit." He was talking like a soldier, but he locked eyes with Deadshot, and I was pretty sure the man could see fear creeping into his eyes.

"You're a really bad liar, Flag," Lawton confirmed. "Didn't they tell you? I'm a hitman, not a fireman. I don't save people."

Flag scowled at him.

This crap was why I didn't want to work with these killers.

"Anything for a dollar, right, Lawton? Sorry we're not smothering retired mobsters with pillows."

Deadshot just stared at him. Killer to killer. "You know the dark places too, Flag," he replied. "Don't tell me you don't."

"I'm a soldier, Lawton." Flag turned to stare at the wreckage below. "You're just a serial killer who takes credit cards."

Deadshot stared daggers at him.

"Let me ask you this, Lawton," Flag continued. "Would you die for a word? Like integrity? Or duty? I've buried too many friends who have. When the shooting starts here, and it will, you'll cut and run. I know your kind too well."

Deadshot's hand slid to his holster. He rested his hand on his gun, then saw the sharpshooters sitting across from him as they suddenly went tense. Slowly he moved his hand away, but their eyes never left him.

Since they were all too overwhelmed, I took out my handgun and aimed it in Deadshot's direction, resting my elbow on my knee. "Try it, I dare you." I said lowly.

Deadshot scoffed. "That's why they call you Trig, huh?"

I nodded. "Yeah. I won't think twice about pulling it, either."

I could see Katana and Flag relax their shoulders a little, but the others locked eyes on the infamous hitman.

Boomer glanced over to see Croc holding his stomach, looking sick. "Hey. Is he supposed to be green like that?"

"Don't like flying," Croc started to say before his stomach screamed and regurgitated last night's rancid goat meat dinner all over the chopper floor.

Harley stared at the chewed goat head rolling toward her feet. She quickly lifted them out of the way and tucked them under her, yoga style. "Whoa. Party foul. Not cool." For once nobody disagreed with her.

The four choppers turned toward the city center, then weaved through the steel and glass canyons.

Bathed in the glow of the setting sun, the city deceptively looked like it could still be saved. Anyone still standing on the ground would know better.

Suddenly gunfire whipped up from the streets.

Bullets shattered the left turbine on Chinook-2, and its engine ground like pebbles in a blender.

The chopper lurched back and forth uncontrollably, the pilot unable to right its course. "Hold on tight," Flag bellowed.

I saw the Squad, pressed against the shell by the G-forces of the spinning bird, trying to find anything to grab.

"The hell with you," Slipknot shouted. "I'm saving myself." He uncoiled his rope and moved to the open bulkhead.

Before he could get there, however, Katana drew her sword and braced herself. She cocked it back, ready to slice off his head.

Flag tried to reason with him. "She'll kill you before you get anywhere near the exit," he shouted. "And if she does, your soul's going to be trapped in the sword forever."

Slipknot turned to Flag and stared at him as if he was insane—yet Flag looked dead serious. The killer edged away from the open bulkhead and sat back down, resigned. Better safe than sorry.

"Okay, we're all here," Deadshot shouted. "Now what?"

Flag flashed a morbid grin and with his thumb made a slicing motion across his throat. "We die."

Deadshot laughed. "You see, Flag, it's just like I said. You're as crazy as me." He turned to find Harley grinning at him like the maniac she was.

She blew him a provocative kiss. "Back at you, princess."

The Chinook's engine was nearly gone, but the pilot was able to force the chopper in at an angle, barely topping the shorter office buildings surrounding the city center.

I spotted the ground-level parking lot on which the Chinooks were supposed to land, only two blocks south. The chopper headed for it, a thick trail of black smoke stretching out behind us. The landing struts broke off as they slammed into the row of satellite dishes dotting the rooftops.

The lot was still a block away, and we were losing altitude fast.

The other chopper descended to land safely on the parking lot.

The Seals aboard sprinted off the tail ramp and took shelter behind cement columns. Chinook-1 roared back into the air, clearing the lot for our copter.

Its engine grinding, Chinook-2 howled toward its target. Two hundred feet to go. Any cars on the road below them scrambled to get out of the chopper's way.

It came in just feet above their rooftops. One hundred sixty feet to go. A large black van with a roof-mounted luggage attachment tried to pull out of the way, but the Chinook's tail rotor slammed into the luggage, slicing it open, scattering its contents to the wind. One hundred feet.

The Chinook was spinning now, but the pilot refused to surrender the controls.

At the same time he raised the collective, he adjusted the throttle to increase speed. The copter nosed up slightly as it jerked ahead. Fifty-seven feet to go.

He carefully manipulated the Chinook, swinging the nose to the left while raising the collective as far as he could. The copter's nose lifted again, but I knew it wasn't nearly enough.

We were over the parking lot and needed to decrease speed as the pilot struggled to lower the collective. But the Chinook was coming in too fast. Its burning turbine belched fire and smoke. It careened sideways and rolled as it hit the ground hard.

Its twin rotors pounded themselves to pieces against the ground.

Kicked-up dust and debris were everywhere, obscuring visibility while the passengers hugged the columns to avoid getting hit by the rotor shrapnel.

"Move. Move. Get out."

I had barely maintained consciousness.

"You alright?" Hayes shouted at me over the chaos.

I nodded morbidly.

The villains followed Flag as he scrambled out of the ruined Chinook and headed for a freeway underpass where the Seals waited for us.

A drone, flying three hundred feet above, followed our every move, faithfully recording everything it saw.

We made the first down, but the real game was just beginning.

"We're okay," Flag said into the comm. "We're okay. Assets are undamaged." he led the Alpha Dogs and his Squad under the freeway to the ramp heading north, where we joined forces with the Seals from Chinook-1.

"What now, Colonel?" GQ asked.

Flag checked his phone's GPS. "We're ten blocks from the objective. Gimme two columns. Long rifle elements will leapfrog and maintain over watch. We come in any contact with the enemy, peel off. No John Wayne garbage. No taking them on by yourself, or even in pairs. Our real mission comes once we're at base. I need everyone there. So let me repeat—you make contact, you fall back and we find another route. Capisce?"

Boomer shot him a dirty look. "Yeah, we got it the first five hundred times you told it to us."

Flag turned back to GQ. "Your men ready?"

"Roger all, Colonel," the soldier said as he turned to his Seals. "First squad, left echelon. Second squad, take right. Senior Chief?"

"Sir?" Gomez, one of the Seals, ran up to him.

"You grew up here, right?" GQ asked.

Gomez nodded. "Yessir."

"Then you've got point, Senior."

Flag addressed his Suicide Squad. "Watch how the pros do it," he shouted as the Twenty Seals moved out, elegantly deploying into perfectly choreographed teams.

Deadshot nodded, somewhat impressed. He seemed to respect our discipline. Unfortunately, we also had to follow ordered often given but cowards who hid in control rooms while snipers put their asses on the line. Best thing you could say about Flag was he was no chicken. He was here marching into hell alongside us.

"So what do we do?"

"Nothing," Flag answered. "Unless I tell you. Follow me." He started out toward the city centre, which lay less than half a mile away. A tall cloud of black smoke rose from it, a grim arrow pointing us to our target.

"Look at all this," Boomerang said. "We're gonna die aren't we?"

"Maybe." I shrugged my shoulder. "Maybe not, but if things are as bad as I suspect, you're gonna wish you did."

Flag threw me an amused grin.

Harley snorted. "So why are we marching into battle like good little soldiers?"

Deadshot pointed to the explosive in his neck. "This, and 'sides, you got anything better to do?"

"Give me a few seconds and I'm sure I'll figure something out."

The squad followed behind Flag, staring at the horrifying devastation that was everywhere. Buildings had collapsed-once tall and mighty, now headstones for the thousands buried beneath.

They were killers, all of them, unshaken by the violent death that often came at their own hands. But this was more than any of them had ever seen before. More… and worse.

I followed closely, my hand close to my rifle.

Harley slowed down and paced alongside me. "I'm thinking the good guys probably pay better than my guy. So, what does a girl like you make, anyway?"

Silent, I kept walking.

"Oh, c'mon, it's not a big deal," Harley persisted. "You getting a grand a week? Two? Five? Don't tell me you get more?"

I glared at her. "Move, or I blow your head off."

"Well, you're out of freakin' luck. Look, we're both babes, right? On the same side, chromosomally speaking. I thought maybe…"

"You thought wrong. We're not on the same side. We'll never be on the same side."

"Mr. J used to say the same thing. Now we're closer than nipples on a pig. You and me, it could still happen. So give me a ballpark. They pay you by the fight, or you under contract? What about medical? I gotta say, this job isn't that good on the ol' skull and bones."

I stopped in my tracks and grabbed Harley by the throat. "One does not get paid to do what is right." I pushed Harley back to the road. "Now shut up and walk, or I'll see to it you won't have any feet to walk on."

"Hey, no problem, I get it. You're embarrassed they don't pay you enough. But I understand. Mr. J doesn't pay me. So, between us chicks, you think that's 'cause we're minions, or is it the girl thing?"

I stared at Harley, who gave me a big smile and hurried to catch up with the others. "Okay, okay. I'm zipping it."

"Nice talk. Let's not do it again." I mumbled., looking around. Everyone was calmly walking ahead into battle. Even Flag and the Ninja.

Suddenly, Slipknot tossed a grapple up to a balcony. Boomer pulled one of his boomerangs from inside his jacket pocket, ready to move.

Before I had time to grab my rifle and aim it at him, Slipknot activated his rope ratchet and launched himself upward. Boomer threw a boomerang at Katana's legs-but she jumped like a cat and it flew off, missing her completely.

"Hold your fire," Flag shouted, waiting.

Slipknot was partially up the wall when he fired a second grapple to the roof, then smoothly transferred to that rope. Once he made it the top, he could disappear into the city.

Katana's sword found Boomerang's throat.

He raised his hands in surrender. "You got me," he said. "Sorry about the 'rang. Please don't kill me."

Another moment passed and his boomerang suddenly returned to his hand. He dropped it instantly and smiled at her. "It's what they do."

Flag tapped his cell phone casually. There was a sharp explosion, and something the size of a melon came flying down from above, landing on a pile of garbage.

It was Slipknot's head. His eyes were wide with surprise.

Harley turned to Deadshot and laughed. "Now that's a killer app."

I found the others staring at Flag, dumbfounded.

He showed them his cell phone, strapped to his arm. Their mug shots were on the screen, a red button under each of them. "I wasn't bluffing." He said. "I never do. So if you wanna keep playing the Hollywood Squares version of I'll blow your frikkin' head off, I'm ready. Who's next? You, Deadshot?'

Lawton's pistol was in his hand before I knew it. It was aimed at Flag's face.

I raised my rifle at Deadshot, adrenaline kicking in. No one was going to hold a gun at anyone's face and get away with it. "Give me the word, Boss, I'll drop him."

Flag waved for me to lower my gun, but I didn't. His thumb hovered over the button.

 _No, you're too close!_ I thought, flicking off the safety on my rifle.

The Squad stepped back. They wanted nothing to do with whatever the hell was going on, but they were content watching it unfold. It was a Mexican standoff.

I waited for Deadshot's finger to flinch, but it wasn't on the trigger yet. I wasn't going to let him get that far.

Flag sneered. "You wanted to shoot me, you wouldn't have waited for me to call up your picture."

Deadshot nodded. "And you would have blown off my head before I got the chance to shoot."

Flag slowly lowered his arm, taking his thumb away from the phone.

Deadshot followed suit, and stared at the Colonel. "Next time, don't threaten me. Just do what you think you need to do."

Flag nodded at Katana, who released Boomerang. She sheathed her sword as he eyes the rest of the Squad.

"Do we all believe now?" Flag paced around the others, watching them like a hawk.

Harley looked around at the rest of the Belle Reve inmates. "Yeah," she said. "We don't push your buttons, you don't push ours." Then she looked right at me.

"That was a close one," Flag mumbled.

I strode alongside him, gripping my rifle. I wasn't going to relax enough to put it away. "What were you thinking?"

"Hoping someone would ankle, I don't know." He looked down at me and grinned. "I won't do it again, I promise."

Twenty six hours earlier, everyone in midway City got up and left. Nearly two million people drove or walked across the bridges before the missiles knocked them down, or they crowded onto city transit then transferred to trains that would take them to Gateway City, across the bay.

Thousands of other boarded ferries they prayed would not be sunk before the too, made it to Gateway-or even better, Central City, a hundred plus miles to the north. Many survived the short mile-long trip. Most didn't.

Nearly a million and a half men, women and children died in the first wave of attacks. A series of underground gas explosions had rippled through the area. Even would-be thieves, believing the city was theirs to loot, soon found themselves hunkered indoors, praying they were safe behind locked doors. They weren't.

There were no more trains. No more busses. No way to leave. Nobody was walking the sidewalks of the Fifth Street Promenade, the city's major shopping district extending from Ostrander at the north end to Grell at the south.

Something dreadful was out there, and it was killing everyone it found. Nobody could fight it. Nobody was safe. Whoever remained in Midway City was going to die in Midway City.

We turned left and headed toward the Tenth Street circle, then took the third outlet to Mooney Drive. Our target, mostly hidden by smoke, was only five blocks away.

Something dreadful was out there, and it was killing everyone it found. Nobody could fight it. Nobody was safe. Whoever remained in Midway City was going to die in Midway City.

We turned left and headed toward the Tenth Street circle, then took the third outlet to Mooney Drive. Our target, mostly hidden by smoke, was only five blocks away.

We moved carefully through the city wreckage.

Out of earshot, Hayes wondered aloud why Flag wouldn't tell us who we were to fight. Did that mean he didn't want to know either, or that whatever was out there was so bad he was afraid to tell us? I shuddered.

"If that's the case," he murmured, "heaven help us all, 'cause nothing else can."

Spenser suddenly stopped. "This isn't good," he said. "You see them?"

"See what, Clay?" Hayes said.

"They're all dead."

Then I saw it. Mooney Drive was littered with corpses. Piles of them tossed aside like garbage.

Flag gestured for us to stop as he stepped closer.

"Now that's weird," Taylor suddenly said. He stepped up, right behind me.

"What's weird?" Flag asked.

He kneeled down as if to touch one of the corpses, but then pulled back. It was an only man, probably in his eighties.

"No one here is young," he said. "Or strong. These guys are all older, or crippled." He pointed to a walker, lying on its side, bent out of shape. "Like they were rejected and tossed away."

"Rejected for what?" Perry probed.

"Yeah. What you said."

Flag's radio bleeped. GQ's voice could be heard through the static.

"Boss, we've got people up here."

"Roger. On my way." Flag responded.

Carter checked their ammunition supply, but with even with nearly fifteen thousand rounds, he wasn't sure if they had enough.

What if, I worried, it was like Superman, and bullets bounced off them? Or they could melt the metal with heat vision, or something equally alien?

Planet Earth would be totally screwed.

Flag stared through his scope and scanned the next street.

A half a dozen cars were turned over and on fire. A school bus had crashed into a clothing store windows, it's front half inside, it's back half gone as if it torn off and thrown away. As far as I could tell, nobody was inside.

He slowly panned the gun sight, then abruptly stopped.

I followed suit, and I could make out three shadowy figures skittering in the dark.

Silhouettes.

Flag lowered his weapon and grabbed me by the arm. "We're diverting. Bump out second squad two blocks east," he whispered. "Once they're set, we'll pass through them and we'll continue north."

I nodded, then got GQ on the comm frequency. "Post up your peeps two majors east." I said into the mic. "We'll leapfrog through you once you roger out. Initiate your peel."

"Roger that," the Seal snapped back. I took my comm and forwarded the others. "Okay, second squad. We're leapfrogging to the next intersection. Peel. Go!"

The Seals took off in three-man fire teams. Weapons ready, they made their way to the adjacent street.

I looked over to Flag, and waited for him to finish his call.

"What?" he grunted.

"What's going on Flag?"

Flag nodded toward a vehicle parked a short distance up the street.

Moving shadows crouched behind it. I raised my scope for a closer look. My crosshairs swept the vehicle, then landed on a figure hiding behind it. For a moment I thought it was one of Midway's police or firefighters-tall, powerful, and dressed in the tatters of what had been once a uniform. He'd been through the grinder.

Then the figure turned, and I saw what should have been a face looking back at me. Instead, I was staring at a large, black misshapen mass sitting on top of a semi-human body with the proper number of arms and legs in their appropriate places, but twisted and bent in an almost inhuman way.

There was no flesh on its face, but something that looked like it had been coated with tar then left to dry and crack in the sun. There seemed to be no front or back view, no mouth or ears or even a nose. The entire head was a massive, encrusted barnacle.

That wasn't what was really scary.

Pocked into its crusted façade were eyes, Thousands of glowing eyes, and the eyes were all staring at me. Not just where the face should have been, but where the gaps and tears were in clothing revealed bare flesh. Impossible eyes that didn't blink.

I pulled back, stunned. I didn't know what I was looking at, but I knew it deified reason. I knew the thing was evil.

"What the hell, Flag?"

"Something we don't want to tangle with," Flag said, his voice low.

Then I felt my neck hairs bristle. I saw Diablo behind us, frightening in his stillness.

"They are the eyes of enemy," Diablo said softly, "Executing Agents. EA's." Sombre, frightened, he stared past us. His eyes were focussed. "Our deaths."

Boomerang walked up past Hayes and took his carbine and looked through the scope. He turned back to the other, his face ashen. "Looks like crap with eyeballs."

Diablo turned to Flag with uncharacteristic urgency. "Shut this place down, Flag. Cleanse it now, while we still can."

"That ain't right," Boomerang stared into the dark. He didn't have to see the thing again-it had already permanently burned into his memory. But it was there, in the dark. And it may not have been alone. "That ain't even possible." He looked to see the others staring at him. Because they too, didn't know what to make of whatever they were seeing.

They too, needed reassurance.

For the first time they all looked to Flag for their next move.

"Get ready," Flag said, understanding the sudden shift, and ready to use it to his advantage.

Then the thing, the "EA" suddenly charged, darting from behind the vehicle. These EAs weren't just people-they were something very different. The Seals raised their weapons, ready to fire on command.

Another EA suddenly darted out from an alleyway between office buildings, while others pushed aside manhole covers and flowed up through them and onto South Paul Street. Many of them were carrying weapons, guns, rifles taken from soldiers they had murdered.

They were all moving inhumanely fast, and they were coming from every direction at once. Flag shouted to the squad, shocking them from their catatonic rigor. "Hit 'em," he bellowed. "Now! Aim for their eyes. They can't attack what they can't see."

It only took moments to fire several hundred rounds, but the things, the EAs did not stop coming. Even more poured in after the initial swarm.

I kept firing. Perry and Spenser had nearly three dozen grenades each. They tossed them all, one after another, but the creatures would not be stopped. They separated and scattered in different directions, moving too fast for me to focus my gunfire.

I clipped several of them, but my weapons weren't powerful enough to put them down. A few of the things for close enough to land blows, each time they did there was a scream, short and quickly cut off. The other EAs darted into doorways and hurried to hide around corners. Dozens jumped into op sewer entrances, disappearing in underground. In seconds, they were gone.

Flag embraced the momentary calm. They desperately needed the break to reassess what just happened.

"Cease fire," he said, "we need to conserve our ammo."

It was quiet once again. I spotted two of our men lying dead in the street, but I couldn't find a single EA corpse. "No kills. We didn't even drop one."

We stood for a very long time.

The lifeless body of Howe from Bravo Team was draped over a concrete barrier, and Stebbins has a gigantic hole through his torso.

It was what I had feared. I was disappointed in the Bravo Team first Squad. These were supposed to be the army's crack infantry? Despite all the hype and Hoo-ah horse-shit, he saw the men as poorly trained and potentially dangerous in combat. During training exercises, I had the impression that they were always craning their necks to watch Flag and his men instead of paying attention to their own very important part of the job. And the job demanded more. It demanded all you had,

and more... because the price of failure was often death.

That's why Flag and the rest of the Alpha Dogs loved it. It separated them from other men. War was ugly and evil, for sure, but it was still the way things got done on most of the planet.  
Intellectuals could theorize until they sucked their thumbs right off their hands, but in the real world, power still flowed from the barrel of a gun.

They was obviously dead.

"Flag, what have you sent us to fight?" Deadshot turned to Flag.

"Once we get to our checkpoint, we'll find that out."

"The hell," Carter interrupted. "Those dudes run fast. Lightning fast."

"You'll protect me, right, doll face?" Boomerang asked hopefully. He fluttered his eyes and smiled at me.

I stared at him for another few second, then, without a word, I walked away, apathetic.

They didn't have to talk to know this was a momentary respite. The things, the EAs, had checked out the humans, and now they were most likely plotting their next move.

I took the moment to reload my weapons, but I wasn't at all sure if it mattered. Hundreds of rounds had been spent, but there were no enemy kills.

"So how do we stop 'em, Trig?" Carter asked. "We need bigger guns? Nukes? What?"

"We'll figure that out, Carter. Because we have to." I didn't turn to answer him as I watched Flag talk into his earpiece lowly. I watched his face carefully, for any sign of hope. I didn't see any.

"So, ' _because we have to'_ is your plan? Why am I not encouraged?" Ramer looked at me harshly.

"Ask 'em if I care. I just need your goddamn bullets hitting those things until they stay the hell down."

"And there's that good ol' team rah-rah speech I've waiting for," Deadshot shook his rifle and walked off, disgusted.

Hayes stood to the side and watched Deadshot leave. "You can't blame him, Trig. He's a paid sniper. He's never failed 'cause he plans out everything to the last detail, but you're telling him to trust luck. That's not in his DNA."

Flag turned slightly, his ear in our direction. I wasn't sure if he was listening or not.

"And handing out orange slices and chocolate chip cookies isn't in mine," I replied, no reaction in my voice. It almost startled me, the sound was so careless.

"You gotta remember, we're putting our lives on the line cos Flag gave us a choice of die or die trying. But if we don't think we're going to make it, that promise is smoke. You've got to give us something more. Even some real info would do. You and Flag are like peas and carrots, but you can't even give us a tiny bit of intel?"

"Guess becoming heroes by saving the world from those creatures isn't enough, huh?" Flag snapped back, then he too, left. He had better things to do than argue with a Seal.

"You don't get any of it, do you?" Hayes shouted after him, but Flag was already halfway down the block, going over his attack plans with GQ in his ear.

"Damn, Flag, you're gonna get us all killed!" Hayes turned and glared at me. "And you're not at all different."

I felt my anger grow. I looked at my gun and squeezed the barrel. No. I don't need this. Not now. _Yeah, we're a suicide squad, and we're going to die. Had to happen someday. Might as well be now._


	14. Chapter 14 Tensions are high

Flag was frothing at the bit, anxious to get started. He would never admit it, but he wanted to get this over and done with as much as we did. We were fighting a war, too.

He knew he would do anything to save this city. Including, I realized, sending all these people- Seals and criminals – to their painful deaths, if it meant the city would survive.

I shuddered at that thought.

Hayes had said Flag and I weren't that different. When it came right down to it, we both would kill anything that stood in our way, if it meant obtaining the objective.

Maybe he wasn't wrong.

Flag looked at the others, far enough down the block that they couldn't hear him, and he whispered to me. "Thanks," he hissed. "For what you're doing. They would have up-and-left by now."

"They would have sooner if you told them the truth," I replied.

The Squad acted as if they were oblivious to the madness that surrounded them, laughing and telling stories as if they hadn't a care in the world.

I assumed they were working out the details of abandoning their posts, or leaving Flag and I to fend for ourselves.

Damn, I hated them. Then I cursed. I was used to soldiers who snapped to attention and saluted crisply when a Colonel entered the room, not bottom-feeders and scum like this damn squad.

They made it abundantly clear that they didn't want to be here, didn't intend to put their own lives on the line, and frankly, couldn't care less who died as long as it wasn't them.

At least they were true to themselves. They knew exactly what they were, and they weren't running from it.

But Flag stuck them in this no-win scenario, and despite all the voices in my head warning me otherwise, accepted the job, too.

Now that I ass-deep into it, someone had to show these bastards what it meant to play the hand your dealt with, whether they wanted to or not.

Because I really had no choice in the matter, I decided that might as well be me.

We all sat down on any debris we found, and checked our weapons and ammo supply.

Some of the Seals took a swig from their water canisters, and gazed at the surrounding devastation.

Indistinct chatter came from the comm, and I ignored it, watching the faces of the Seals around me.

I checked my mag was fresh, and sighed.

Flag sat beside me, and looked up at the sky. "Whatever happens tonight, I hope it's not for nothing."

"Do you know what we're up against?" I asked.

"You remember the witch?" Flag mumbled, checking to see if anyone was listening.

I nodded. "That girl in the bathtub? She got away from Waller?"

Flag swallowed hard. "Yeah. She's trying to take over the world now. So I need everyone's head on a swivel."

I gave him a reassuring nod. "We got this, right?"

"You and me?" He grinned.

I smiled back. "Yeah. You and me against the world… and these idiots." I pointed at the Squad.

Flag chuckled. "Next time Deadshot tries something? Drop him."

"Yessir." I grinned. Permission granted.

"Get up, we're moving." Flag stood up and waved at the others.

I got to my feet, and looked around. No one budged.

Flag looked at them, angrily.

I rolled my eyes. "The Colonel said get up," I commanded. "Now. We're moving out."

Hayes yawned, stood and stretched sensuously. "Yeah, yeah, whatever."

Reluctantly, they all got to their feet, not nearly ready enough to move. Hell came to them first.

Suddenly EAs were everywhere. Dozens appeared, streaming up from the sewers, doorways and alleys. They darted across the street, and they were fast. Inhumanely fast.

"Goddamn it," Flag shouted. "Frag 'em!"

I fell back, firing like a machine, shooting and reloading as fast as my weapons allowed. Black shards burst from the creatures with each impact, as if they were made of obsidian or coal. Every shot struck home, but nothing stopped them.

"I'm tagging headshots," I shouted, "but they aren't dropping!"

The squad kept shooting, Hayes fired two weapons at once, a glock and a SIG Sauer. He clocked two-dozen hits, but the things were still coming at him. He turned and ran, ducking behind Taylor.

Flag led the soldiers back to a series of waist-high concrete barricades, originally set up to route traffic to a different street. He hoped they'd be useful cover for us.

"Single shots aren't doing squat," he barked. "Let's see what it takes to knock off one of those bastards off its feet."

An EA was closing in faster than the others and Flag pointed to its head. "That's our crosshairs. Let's see what it takes to shred it."

The Seals hunkered behind the barricades and concentrated their firepower on the one EA, targeting its head and ignoring everything else. A hundred rounds hit the things face, exploding chunks of black crust from it, grinding it. Flag ordered them not to stop.

Round after round. I kept shooting at the one beast until it finally collapsed into a pile of fragments.

"We did it!" Boomerang yelled.

I glared at him. "Took almost all of our ammo. We had enough to take down a small country. No way we'll have enough to deal with all of them."

"What are those things made of?" Diablo asked.

"Guys," Harley looked closer at the shattered EA.

The others were so busy discussing the end of the world to notice her.

"Guys," She might as well be invisible as well.

I took my gun and shot it into the air. They turned toward me, startled. "Better."

She was grinning while staring at the EA corpse, pointing. "Guys, look real careful. Under all that gook, I think there's a real head. And a face. And maybe some good parts too."

Deadshot scowled at Harley. "So?"

Flag raised his head and looked at her.

"So, I don't think those EAs are like superman. You know, a strange visitor from another world, and all that."

Flag sniffed. "What are you saying?"

"I think they used to be people."

The creatures looked alike, part of a set. Whatever differences there were between them were nominal, but beneath the crust actual faces could be seen. They looked like cops and Seals who had been killed in the creature's last attack.

"She's right, God, why didn't I see it before, but that's… that was Donovan." Perry said.

"Behind us!" Boomerang shouted suddenly.

Dozens of the things charged. Cop, firemen, Seals- locals who had lived or worked in the area. Now they were all monsters. Unstoppable. Un-killable. Things.

Flag called to his men. "Fall back. Keep shooting. Do whatever you have to. Save yourselves."

Deadshot laughed.

They were all afraid, and they didn't care who knew it. Their enemy was something nobody had ever seen before. Nobody had ever imagined before, and they had no idea how powerful the EAs truly were.

A cop EA leapt on the back of William's back. It grabbed his rifle, flipped it around and shot the Seal in the face.

The thing tried to stand up, but it fell back down into a pile a crumbled chunks of black crust as I grabbed my dagger and stabbed it in the head.

EA's ran in from all directions. Ravenous, they leaped over debris that was blocking their way and propelled themselves fifteen feet or more into the air before landing on the other side. Dozens of bullets slammed into them. The defenders torn apart a few, but they were still unable to stop them.

I lodged the dagger in a thick bone and it stuck. I tried to pull it free, but it was wedged in tight.

The EA grabbed my throat and squeezed. I raised my legs, knees to my chest, then jackhammered my feet into the things center. I did it again. My third kick sent the thing toppling back, off balance, but the EA still held onto me.

Desperate, I tried to use my legs as leverage to pull the dagger free, but I was losing strength.

I felt my breath giving out, but then I saw Flag standing beside the creature, his .45 just inches from its ear. He squeezed the trigger, and a second later its head shattered. The thing crumpled into broken bits of thick black crust and collapsed to the ground, dead.

I put my leg on the fallen EA's chest and used it to gain leverage. The dagger slid out without any further problem.

An EA grabbed Flag by the leg and dragged him across the ground.

I heard myself screaming out as stone and debris cut through Flag's uniform and ripped his back. Warm blood spread over the gouges. He struggled to reach his mag, still in its holster. After several failed attempts, his fingers found it. He pulled out and emptied a full round magazine into the face of the thing that was pulling him. _Click!_

He grabbed a second mag, slammed it into the gun, and fired point-blank into the creatures head.

It screamed and fell, releasing its grip.

The EA, its face blown open and leaking flesh and crust, stood up on its feet and staggered toward him, weak, but refusing to die.

 _Oh damn!_

Flag fired the last of the mag into the thing, but it wouldn't stop. He wouldn't let his enemy kill him, though.

I picked up two abandoned assault rifles, nearly the same size as me and I kept firing, no longer concerned with dying.

Perhaps I even welcomed it, at least as long as I took down nearly everything else that moved.

One of the EA's carried a rifle, military grade, designed for maximum damage.

I ignored it and charged at the EA pulling Flag. Even as the bullets impacted my body armour, but it didn't pierce it. It hurt like all kinds of hell, but I didn't even care.

"Keep running 'til you're dead," I yelled at it, as it began to falter. "Then run some more for the hell of it!"

The thing careened back and fell. Flag stood up and over it as it squirmed on the ground. He fired two more shots into its brain. The thing stopped twitching.

I didn't understand how, but I had saved him.

"Thanks," he said. Flag was human this time. The usual soldierly hardness had gone from his eyes. I liked this version. I felt butterflies form in my stomach as he smiled kindly.

"No targets in the vicinity." He looked around. "Cease firing. Conserve all the ammo you can. Pick up any you can find."

I dropped myself down on a pile of smashed concrete, my chest heaving with exhaustion. At my feet were eleven dead creatures.

I looked up at the Seals to see how many had survived. Not many. But most of them were staring at me, eyes wide and mouths open.

A Seal named Ramer walked over, and he stuck out his hand. "I'll fight alongside you any day," he said, "Good job, Major."

Ramer was new to the second squad, but I had worked with him before. He was arrogant and didn't really want to be a Navy Seal at all. He was short and muscular- he reminded me of a cowboy.

Flag stared at him, eyebrows raised and stunned. This was the first civil thing anyone had said since first arriving on the mission.

I looked up and refused to shake the Seals hand. Flag watched from a across the way.

"I didn't see any of you stop to help Flag. He dies, you die. Don't forget, he's saved your ass when you needed him."

I ignored Ramer's hand completely and strode over to where Flag was doubled over.

"Come on, Colonel. Let's take a look at the damage."

Flag didn't argue, he must have been in a bit of pain. He looked at me, one eye brow arched.

"What?" I snapped.

Flag gave me a tight-lipped smiled, and turned around, facing away from me.

I carefully helped him take off his jacket and shirt, but blood and dirt clung to his bare skin, making it difficult to remove. Finally, the fabric was moved enough to clear the bloody gashes up his back.

"You in pain, Rick?"

I asked, taking a medical kit from my vest.

"A little,"

The other Seals dropped down and decided to rest, not interested in Flag's injuries at all.

The Seals on second squad weren't impressed with a lot of things about this regiment.

Ramer and others in his unit had complained to GQ, the unit commander about Flag's readiness. They had gotten nowhere.

Flag had his way of doing things, and that was the traditional SOG (Special Operations Group) way.

Ramer found the spit-and-polish Colonel to be an arrogant and incompetent buffoon.

Flag noticed this and heaved a sigh. "Just don't."

"What's that?"

"Don't try reasoning with them. Seals never change their ways."

I laughed half-heartedly. "You talk like you know." I paused, waiting for a reply that never came. "I have to clean this to prevent infection."

Flag grunted his permission. "Thank you. I mean it. I'd be dead if it weren't for you."

"Just returning the favour."

He winced as I poured alcohol disinfectant over the wound.

The thick blood seeped out and down his back, revealing a large scrape, but not deep enough for too much damage. I placed a pad over it and used the medic tape to stick it to his skin.

"Okay, done." I stood back and watched Flag struggle to pull down his shirt and jacket.

Letting out an irritated scowl, Flag couldn't reach far enough to pull it over his wound.

"Can you uh…" he mumbled.

I pulled the rest of the clothing down as far as it would go, trying not to disturb the bandage.

He turned slowly, and looked down at me appreciatively. "I can't thank you enough." He said softly, buckling up his vest.

We looked at each other for what seemed like a long time. He just looked at me, eyes full of some emotion I couldn't comprehend.

He opened his mouth to speak, he kept his voice low, too, and looked at me curiously, his head cocked to the side. "How bad is it?"

"You'll need to tend to that once you're back at base. It's not looking good." I replied, looking back at him carefully, assessing. I kept my eyes on his, and watched as the excitement in them faded and gentled.

Then he smiled a surprisingly impish grin.

"Thank you," he said, obviously pleased with himself.

"Well you have already thanked me, so cut it out." I scoffed.

Flag wiped the sweat from his forehead. "I'm glad you're here, Major."

His eyes were gloriously intense as he uttered that last sentence, his voice smouldering.

"Huh?" I mumbled.

"The General told me he wants to promote you if you can show me that you can take charge. But I don't want you to."

I cocked one eye brow and forgot all about resetting my weapons, which is what I'd usually do when someone tried to talk to me. "Why don't you want me to succeed, Rick? It's all I ever dreamed. I want to make a difference. A _real_ difference. Save people and maybe the men I work with. My aim is preserve human life, why on earth would you not want me to?

"Not like that. I do want what you want, but-"

"But what then? Spit it out."

Flag met my eyes for a second, and then looked away quickly toward the buildings. It almost looked like he was blushing, but it was hard to tell with the darkness surrounding us.

I started gnawing on my lip.

"Look," Flag said. "I was planning to do this a little bit differently." He laughed, and it sounded like he was laughing at himself. "Smoother," he added. "I was going to work up to it, but-" he looked up at the clouds.

"What are you talking about?" I demanded.

He took a deep breath. "I want to tell you something. And you already know it . . . but I think I should say it out loud anyway. Just so there's never any confusion on the subject."

I planted my feet, and he came to a stop. I folded my arms across my chest. I was suddenly sure that I didn't want to know what he was building up to.

Flag's eyebrows pulled down, throwing his deep-set eyes into shadow. They were pitch black as they bored into mine. "What I'm about to say is the most selfish thing I've ever said in my life."

"Don't go there," I whispered.

'But you need to hear it. I'm in love with you, Jaz," Flag said in a strong, sure voice. "Trig, I love you. And I want you to pick me. I know you don't feel that way, but I need the truth out there so that you know your options. I wouldn't want a miscommunication to stand in our way."

I stared at him for a long minute, speechless. I could not think of one thing to say to him.

As he watched my dumbfounded expression, the seriousness left his face.

"Okay," he said, grinning. "That's all."

"Flag -" It felt like there was something big sticking in my throat. I tried to clear the obstruction. "I can't - I mean I don't . . . I have to go."

I turned, but he grabbed my shoulders and spun me around.

"No, wait. I _know_ that, Trig. But, look, answer me this, all right? Do you want me to go away and never see you again? Be honest."

It was hard to concentrate on his question, so it took a minute to answer. "No, I don't want that," I finally admitted.

Flag grinned again. "See."

"You're a glutton for punishment," I grumbled.

"Yep." He stroked the tips of his fingers across my right cheek. I slapped his hand away.

"Do you think you could behave yourself a little better, at least?" I was irritated as I scanned the others to see if they were looking.

"No, I don't. You decide, Jaz. You can have me the way I am - bad behaviour included - or not at all."

I stared at him, frustrated. "That's mean."

"So are you."

That pulled me up short, and I took an involuntary step back. He was right. If I wasn't mean - and greedy, too - I would tell him I didn't want to be friends and walk away. It was wrong to try to keep him as a friend when that would hurt him. I didn't know what I was doing here, but I was suddenly sure that it wasn't good.

"You're right," I whispered.

He laughed. "I forgive you. Just try not to get _too_ mad at me. Because I recently decided that I'm not giving up. There really is something irresistible about a lost cause."

I shook my head. "You're impossible."

Suddenly, he was serious. He took my chin in his hand, holding it firmly so that I couldn't look away from his intent gaze. "I'll be here. Don't forget that you have options."

"I don't want options," I disagreed, trying to yank my chin free unsuccessfully. "The time for options is almost gone."

His eyes narrowed. "All the more reason to fight - fight harder now, while I can," he whispered. He still had my chin - his fingers holding too tight, till it hurt - and I saw the resolve form abruptly in his eyes.

"N -" I started to object, but it was too late.

He crushed his lips on mine.

I shoved against his chest with all my strength, but he didn't even seem to notice. His mouth was soft, his lips molding to mine in a warm, strange way.

His hands were soft on my face and his warm lips were gentle, unexpectedly hesitant. It was brief, and very, very sweet.

Flags lips were still before mine were. I opened my eyes and he was staring at me with Surprise and delight.

Finally, he let go of my face and leaned away, staring at me with his olive eyes wide and earnest. "You have feelings for me, you just won't admit it,"

That struck a chord. He was right. I was attracted to him. His tall, strong build, protruding muscles, and soft lips, green eyes and his mysterious demeanor…. I shook my head to clear my thoughts,

"Why are you doing this now?" I argued. I did feel something for the Colonel. Butterflies began to flutter madly inside my stomach.

"I know how I make you feel. Physically."

"This can't happen, Flag. Not in the middle of a mission, not in front of the team."

"We may not get out of this alive, Major. I couldn't forgive myself if anything happened to you. Even if I had to die first."

I stopped to think to myself. "You really do care about me?"

Flag laughed nervously. "We make a great team."

I let out a quick breath.

Flag took two steps closer, and looked down at me. Beads of sweat was dripping down the side of his face, but I could still smell him. "And you could love me too."

I had no reply. No smart mouthed or crude remark to spit back. I knew he was right. I knew I couldn't hold this off forever. What if I gave in to the temptation? I hadn't made that decision yet.

At least I was comfortable around him, and that was a start.

We stared at each other for a long moment. His hand smouldered against my skin. In my face, I knew there was nothing but wistful sadness.

Keeping his eyes on mine, Flag began to bend his face toward me. And I was still absolutely undecided.

His eyes did not free mine as his soft lips ever so lightly brushed mine.

I froze.

He felt me stiffen and released me automatically.

 _Wait_ , I wanted to say. _Just a minute_. But I was still locked in place, listening to the echo of Flag's voice in my head. _And you could love me too…._

Fourteen years, I was sick of soldiers coming onto me. Normally, I would sucker-punch them, or flip them over my shoulder in defense, but I gave up fighting with Flag. Maybe he was right. I like the way he kissed me, Flag was different. He had a respect the other men didn't show. I looked around, frantic, hoping no one saw what had just happened. No one was staring though, so it was possible they were distracted, or they didn't even care.

"I have giving up trying to be good. I'm just going to do what I want now, and let things happen." His smile faded as he explained, and a hard edge crept into

his voice.

"You lost me."

The breath-taking crooked smile reappeared.

"You're infatuated, that's all." I grumbled trying to avoid his eye contact by looking down at my boot.

Flag sighed, and rested his hands on this hips. "Well, that's what I thought at first, but it's more than that."

"Give it time," I grinned, walking away. For once, butterflies churned in my stomach. This was a seasoned soldier, who genuinely respected me. Not one of the younger and greener soldiers who thought I was a piece of meat. Flag was a gentleman.

Two Seals from the second squad strolled over to us. They looked rough, tired and beaten. But they still stood strong, ready for more. I gave Flag a nod, and joined his Squad.

Harley was gnawing on her chewing gum ravenously, looking at Katana who kneeling over her sword.

Boomerang polished his weapons as the others reloaded rifles and pistols, Croc and Diablo merely watched.

"You lost, Sweetheart?" Boomerang chimed as I paced around them.

I shook my head. "Not at all."

He turned to me, smiling sweetly. "You know, you're actually a nice person in the quiet."

I scoffed. "And you're a nice person pretending to be a knob."

Croc and Harley burst into laughter, Taylor doubled over.

I frowned, not sure why they reacted like that.

Deadshot laughed, abruptly lightening the mood. "Nice one, G.I Jane."

GQ, Wallis a few other Seals joined us as we passed the next intersection.

"Where's the rest of you?" I asked Wallis, who had been on the Bravo Team for several years.

"We got separated in an attack. They should be at the rendezvous."

I fit a new clip into my gun as I stared at Flag. "We pissed away a ton of ammo," I said.

"And for what?" Hayes finished.

"Hold on, Colonel," GQ shouted as he ran up from behind. "We need to talk."

"We?" Flag repeated without looking. "I think by _we_ , you mean _you_ need to talk. Because I sure don't need to say anything to you except keep killing those bastards until they stay dead."

Flag had nothing but contempt for these recruits, almost as if they were criminals. Flag was also very black and white. Either you fought for good, or fought for evil. And he was married to this life even though he knows it was breaking him down.

GQ grabbed him by the shoulder.

Flag glowered at him, but GQ wouldn't let go.

"Colonel, I lost ten men," he said. "Ten good men. I don't know if they've been killed or what, but they're gone."

"What do you expect me to do about that? I lost men too." Flag tried to keep the emotion out of his tone.

GQ pulled back, still angry. "Yeah. I know, but the question is why. The briefing we got said terrorists were attacking Midway City. Unless the enemy started recruiting monsters, those things are definitely not terrorists."

Flag rested his hand on GQ's, then slowly lifted it off his shoulder. "Don't," he warned. "I might forget we're friends."

GQ pulled his hand back, but otherwise he didn't move.

"I'm waiting, Flag. My men-the ones who've survived this far, and your survivors too- they deserve the truth."

Time for me to butt in and put an end to GQ's whining. Flag looked like he wasn't winning. Waller had obviously told him to keep his mouth shut about the truth. And frankly, I wasn't sure I even wanted to know that those things were and what they wanted from the human race.

"You joined to serve at the pleasure of your president," I responded. "Wherever the hell he decides to send you. I don't recall seeing a contract that said you could pick and choose what you will do or not do."

"I didn't say we wouldn't follow orders. I said we deserve the truth about what we are fighting." Edwards stood his ground. "Those were not terrorists, and some of them were our people. Only changed. Like I said, Sir, we deserve the truth. What are those things?"

Flag looked away. "I don't know," he mumbled the words, as if he didn't want to state what was becoming quickly obvious. "I don't think Waller knows, either. I'm not sure anyone but the enemy knows and surprise, surprise, they're not talking." Flag said before turning back to the Seals. "Okay, look. We don't know a lot of how's and who's, but you've seen what we're up against, so you know the kind of job we've got to do. We're linking up with second squad. GQ, you're Tail-End Charlie. C'mon, people. We're moving out. Now."

Edwards didn't say anything, but he moved. Alpha Dogs peeled off like a formation of jet-fighters.

Bravo Team reluctantly followed suit.

Deadshot hung back with him and waited for the others to get out of earshot, probably forgetting I even existed. But I could still hear.

The Colonel shot him a look.

"What's with the frown, Flag? You wanna say something to me?"

"Yeah," Flag growled. "You will never good enough for my team. We follow orders. You bastards are cowards."

"That's exactly what we are, Flag; bastards," Deadshot replied. "That's exactly why you and Waller wanted us. You weren't looking for gentleman soldiers. You were buying killers, and you got exactly what you paid for. Don't go regretting what you asked for."

"Deadshot, the goddamn world's at stake here, and last time I looked, you live on this planet too."

"We fought just as hard as you did. So give the cranky-old-guy bit a rest."

Flag didn't reply. He strode past to join the others.

Deadshot stood back, smiling. He held up his pistol and pointed it at the man in front of him.

Instinct and training took over, and my rifle was in my grip, aimed at Deadshot's hand. I pulled the trigger without thinking, and the bullet ricocheted off his piece.

Deadshot dropped the gun and looked at me, stunned. "Oh, no you didn't!"

Flag turned around, naturally, aiming his gun in my direction not fully aware of who was against who.

I angrily stomped over to Deadshot and punched his face as hard as I could, not caring how much my hand would hurt afterwards. "I've had enough of you! Get up!" I shouted as he fell to the ground.

Flag bolted towards us, guns rattling as he slipped his handgun into his holster.

I towered over Deadshot, as he put his hand to his cheek where I'd hit him. He stared back at me, rage and confusion set deep in his dark eyes.

Just then my air choked off - Flag grabbed me up in a bear hug too tight to breathe and swung me around in a circle, dragged me to the other side of the street while I tried, with all my strength to get back at Deadshot.

"Everybody calm down!" Flag shouted loud enough for all to hear. He glanced down at me before looking back at Lawton.

"Deadshot, get back in line before I blow your head off. I'd like the mission to end with the same number of holes I had when it started."

"Good luck to the rest of you," Deadshot said to the Seals, snatching his pistol off the ground and joining the other inmates. "Flag and his human Pitbull will get rid of you, too, if you don't play their game!"

Hayes laughed and made an inaudible comment under his breath.

GQ tried to contain his laughter, but failed. "Human Pitbull?"

Flag turned me around as I struggled against him, and put his hands around my face. "Calm down."

I broke free of his grip and looked up at his serious face. "He was going to frag you, Rick." I decided to walk away. I needed space.

Flag grunted and ran to catch up with me, loping at my side. "Why didn't you kill him? You have the authority to put down conspirators. Call it an accidental discharge."

"I missed."

"A sniper doesn't miss-" he paused in thought. "You didn't want to kill him, did you?"

I grit my teeth and focused on ignoring a burning pain in my leg. "I didn't need to. I knew he wanted to leave, he just needed a palpable reason."

Flag laughed. "That's why I like you. And I need you to keep this up. Hell, you might even take my job someday."

"I thought you said you didn't want me too?"

"You're already thinking like a leader. Our country needs you. And I need you too. More than ever. Who am I to hold you back?"


	15. Chapter 15 Going to plan

We arrived at the alley designation point, but I was unable to locate the second squad.

GQ dispatched his men to recon the immediate area. One by one they called in. It was all a big zero.

GQ relayed the intel to me.

"Where the hell are they?"

"They've got to be here," GQ said, his concern growing.

I took out my radio again and punched in a number.

"Havoc for Slayer Two. What's your loc, Slayer Two? Radio check?" my comm frequency was stuck on static.

"We'd've heard gunfire if there was an attack," GQ responded. "If they were able to mount a counterstrike, they would have, if they couldn't, they'd pull back as ordered."

I tried my radio again with the same result. Zip. I wasn't sure if the local cell towers were down or-as I was beginning to fear-nobody was alive to hear me.

I walked the perimeter beyond where the Seal team had checked. Not a single building was intact.

Circling the corner I found a dozen trucks stacked in a pile, all on fire, the stink of diesel fuel smelling up the street. There was something else, too. I stared for a long time then reached for my comm."GQ," I shouted. "Get over here. Right now."

Moments later, the GQ made his way to there I was waiting. "This better be good, Chapman."

I pointed to a doorway, just beyond the burning trucks. Slumped across it was one of GQ's Seals. His equipment, weapons, and extra mags were scattered on the ground around him.

GQ raised Flag on his comm line, then they hurried over to the body.

"He's dead," GQ whispered as he checked the man's pulse. "We'll bury him later, but give me a hand getting him out of there."

Flag joined them and helped GQ pull the body by his shirt and vest where it was been lodged.

"Dammit," GQ exclaimed when he turned the body over and saw his face. "That's Dave Aparo. He was a good man."

Flag nodded. "They all are. Dedicated, no-nonsense, loyal-and kick-ass soldiers."

GQ nodded. "Yeah."

I used my scope to pan the area. "Whoever did this is long gone. I'm not seeing anybody else. I'm thinking those spuds came and snatched up your boys. This one probably fought back and got himself killed."

GQ agreed. "Fighting back was his style. He never gave up." He turned to Flag, red with anger. "We don't leave teammates behind. Let's get our people back."

Flag shook his head.

"Negative," we said in unison. Flag and I exchanged glances.

"We're continuing the mission. They've been taken by those things, they're already dead." Flag continued.

"Rick, you don't know that."

Flag shot him a look that said, _Yeah, I do._

GQ's anger swelled suddenly.

I knew how he felt though-It was the way buddies got after spending days huddled together in the trenches on the field of combat. There was nobody closer to you than the people you knew were watching your back, and expected that you'd be watching theirs. Just like now.

The other Seals surrounded Flag, GQ and I, and they were joined later by the rest of Flag's Suicide Squad.

The Colonel had looked them over. Nobody had ankled.

"Okay, I want the Two-Forty on point, Diamond formation. Start picking 'em and putting 'em down. The objective ain't walking to meet us." I made the order, giving GQ a stern look.

GQ wanted to find his lost men and rescue them, but he was a special warfare officer to the bone. The mission, and his orders, always came first. "Yes commander," he said, saluting me. "Understood."

His men started out, with GQ in the lead.

Fifth Avenue was a decimated wasteland, most of it's buildings leveled to the ground, shattered glass and other debris strewn across the street. A window shattered.

Harley batted aside the few remaining glass shards from the window of Northern Lights, a stylish clothing store frequented by millennials aged twenty-one through thirty. She reached in and pulled an expensive crystal purse off its display pedestal. When she turned back to the street, everyone was staring at her. Except for Flag.

He glared at her. "Seriously? What is it with you people?"

Unfazed, she swung the little purse over her shoulder and rolled her eyes at him. "We're bad guys, it's what we do." Harley struck a pose and checked her reflection in in the mirror. "How does this look?" Arms out, she danced a bit, reveling in her new acquisition. "Me like."

I shook my head and walked off. I hoped when push came to shove, they'd do the job Flag needed them to do. Until then, might as well let them have their little fun.

 _They'll pay for it later,_ I thought optimistically.

I looked ahead and saw Flag was in a deep conversation with GQ, probably arguing over who had the biggest gun.

Suddenly, Flag shouted. "Everyone take a knee," he bellowed. The Seals immediately formed a perimeter around Flag and GQ. They watched as Flag double checked his map, then pointed to a dark office. "Our VIP's at the top of that building. We get up there, pull the target out of the vault, and make it to the roof. Helos will be waiting for us. After that, it's Miller time."

Deadshot took his monocle and used it to bring the Federal Building into clear focus. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. "Who's up there?" He asked curiously.

Flag started toward our destination. "Not your concern," he said as the other joined, following behind.

Deadshot wasn't pleased.

The Federal Building was less than a hundred fifty yards away. Flag crouched behind an overturned garbage truck, and watched EA's move in and out of the area, doing whatever the hell EA's did.

He gestured to us, about twenty yards behind him.

 _We're ready, let's do this._

Moving in pairs, we scurried to our new positions, rifles locked and loaded and ready if any of the creatures spotted us.

None did.

With the Seals in place, Flag darted ahead. He waited for the crowd of EA's to thin out, then gave the sign for us to leapfrog him again. We would continue this way until we were inside the building.

Deadshot hunkered behind the chain-link fence that surrounded the Federal Building. He was rapidly getting impatient with our snail-like pace. He slipped through a break I the fence and made his way to the front door. The creatures, involved in their own tasks, paid no attention to him. I believed they were of a hive mind, fixed on a given task to the exclusion of all others. Unless programmed to do so, a single EA couldn't directly dictate the actions of another. I hoped it would be true. It might make it easier for us to slip past.

Deadshot waved to us, opened the door, and stepped inside.

I used my rifle sight to scan the building's lobby. It was clear. Either the EA's were lousy tacticians and forgot to place guards, or they weren't at all worried that the humans might find them. I prayed it was the former, but I knew better.

I crossed to the guard desk and checked the security monitors, which were still active-they had to have an internal power source. Each was focused on a different area of the building.

"All sectors clear," I said, as Flag and the others followed.

"You were supposed to follow orders, Lawton," the Colonel growled, "And that meant following me, not going off on your little scavenger hunt."

"If I'd listened to you, we'd still be outside."

Flag stopped beside me and turned to the monitors. "You know you're an asshole."

"Better believe it," Deadshot replied. "It's on my business card. Floyd Lawton, asshole assassin. You want, I can tell you where to get 'em printed. All you'd need to do is change the name."

"I don't see the problem here, mates," Boomer said, interrupting. "Looks like we had a spot of luck. A walk in the park. Easy peasy."

"Will you please shut up," I said. "Getting inside was the easy part. Finding the target won't be."

"That was the easy part?" Boomer asked, concerned.

"We're still alive," Deadshot answered.

"What's the hard part?"

Flag checked the building's blueprints on his tablet. Satisfied, he put it back into its case and walked off the left. "Atrium's this way. The stairs are on the far end. Don't wander." He was talking to all of us, but he was staring at Deadshot.

Squad and Seals followed Flag out of the lobby toward the building's second squad.

"Jaz, lead the way." Flag ordered.

I crept ahead of the unit, and scanned the stairs through my rifle scope and stopped just before the stairs, waiting for the others to catch up. "Flag, what's the status on HVT? This place is a ghost town, and we go up those stairs, we could be headed into a kill box."

Flag checked his comms, but received static. "Damn. Still nothin'. Okay, Jaz, take us up."

I didn't keep my eye off the top of the stairs as I lead the way up the stairs.

"Jaz, you good on mags?"

"Yup." I replied quickly.  
"Any of you wankers got any clue why we're doing this?" Boomer asked as we made our way through one endless stark white corridor after another. "Just sayin', I'd rather be safe behind bars than get myself killed. Anyone else thinking about that?"

Flag tapped his cell phone holster. "Feel free to make a break for it, Harkness. I'm all for it."

"Calm down, you two." Deadshot said.

Croc stared at Lawton. "Something going on here I don't know? When did you become Mister-Peace-Between-All-Nations?"

"When they put their damned bomb in my neck. It's powerful enough to blow even you to tiny bits."

"There is that, mate," Boomer said, nodding. "We don't have any choice. But Flaggy, I hope you realise that also means we're not actually on your side. We're just going along for the ride until we don't have to anymore."

Flag kept walking. "I don't need your loyalty, Harkness. All I want from you are your boomerangs, doing whatever the hell I need them to do."

"I can just hand 'em over to you, and then go back to sleep in my cell. I'd enjoy watching you try to handle them."

Diablo sided up to Boomer and put a hand on his shoulder.

For just an instant, I thought the big man himself might be ready to set Harkness on fire, but Diablo just wanted to talk.

"This is not the time to fight among ourselves," he said sombrely. "And, it's definitely not the time to argue with him. Flag holds all the cards."

"Yeah, well, according to you, it's never the time to fight. So when, exactly, did you become a loser?"

"When I figured out that fighting destroys you, and killing doesn't strengthen you. Never. Believe me. I know. But that blissful feeling is only temporary. Kills are like drugs. You need more and more to get that same feeling again. Today it's one kill. Tomorrow, two. Next week, it'll be a dozen. Not only is there no end in sight, but after a while you forget why you ever started. Your need for relief, rather than your intellect, takes over-and it's insatiable."

Boomerang laughed and looked at Deadshot. "Lawton, you're an assassin, mate. You wanna tell the boy what you think about killing?"

"I don't," Deadshot responded. "It's just my job. How I pay the rent. Nothing to get emotional about."

Flag turned to him with a look of disgust. "And what does your daughter think about it? How much of that part of your life have you shown to her?"

Lawton didn't like that question. "She…she still loves me."

"Because of, or in spite of?" I asked.

Deadshot closed his eyes, and took control of his anger. "Screw you, G.I Jane," he said aloud. "Don't we have VIP's to rescue and monsters to kill? So how about we shut up and do our job?"

I grinned.

It was only few minutes later when we reached the atrium, a soaring, inspiring cathedral of glass in the center court of the vast complex. Flag checked the blueprints then signaled toward the closest stairwell.

"This way," I said. "Elevator's not trustworthy. We're taking the stairs. It'll be good for your cardio."

"The stairs? For crap's sake," Boomer said. "I definitely did not sign up for that." He looked at the stairs, then back to the others. "Hey. Where's the cuckoo bird? She's not here."

"Maybe a dingo ate her." I retorted.

Boomer laughed. "We can only hope, darling. We can only hope."

The elevator beeped, and Harley waved at us from the glass elevator as went above us.

"Harley!" Deadshot yelled, as we all scrambled up the stairs to catch up with her.

We watched as Harley was under attack from an EA, who swung in through the glass.

She pummeled one of them, then another fell through the roof of the elevator, and swung Harley around like a rag doll.

My breath began to give out as I climbed the stairs, and fell back behind the others in the race to the top floor.

I leaned over the rail, and let the others go ahead, but Hayes stopped and pulled me up.

"You okay, Trig?"

I nodded and panted for breath. "Yeah. Just a bit out of shape, that's all. All this extra weight isn't helping." i pointed to my vest full of mags.

GQ passed us with ease glaring at me as he stomped by.

Croc and Deadshot ran to the elevator to join the fight, but when the doors opened, they saw Harley holding her bat over her shoulders, whistling as she calmly stepped over the EA's corpses as is nothing had happened. "Hi guys," she said merrily. "Don't we have some big-bads to slaughter?"

Flag and the others approached.

The Colonel looked at Harley, saw the shattered glass and two dead EAs still in the elevator and nodded approval. "Okay. We know they're here. Keep moving. Stay together." He looked at me from the corner of his eye, and raced over.

Hayes had his hand firmly around my waist as I dragged myself up the rest of the stairs.

"I'm okay, just a little winded." I defended, trying to stand up straight on the landing.

Flag's face was a calm mask that I recognized well. It was the face he used when he was determined to keep his emotions in check, to keep himself under control.

"We don't leave a man behind, Flag." Hayes scowled, taking hand hands away from my waist.

"Thanks, Hayes. Alpha, Bravo, move out." I strode ahead of them, trying to keep my breathing deep and even, but I think even Flag could hear my pulse racing. His face scowled at Hayes as I passed him. He looked angry that I had allowed Hayes to help me, let alone allowing him to touch me. I'd forgotten how much this face bothered me.

We made our way down a long corridor, offices on all sides. I paused in front of a dark office, and waited for Flag and the others to catch up.

"Ready?" Flag grunted.

I felt the hairs on my neck bristle. "We're walking into a shooting gallery, aren't we? You sure about this?"

Flag shook his head. "I don't like it either, but it's the only way in. Let's do it." He kicked the door open, and I entered.

The office area was larger than I'd expected. Workstation cubicles filled nearly every open space. The lights were down, and Flag and I, weapons ready, entered carefully. The others followed us in. More than likely EAs were everywhere in the building. They had to be here, too.

The cubicles were designed in a clear grid, giving us a series of easy paths via which to conduct our search.

Sticking close to Flag and GQ, I started by moving up the left-most aisle, pausing before each self-contained space, my gun leading me.

Looking for the enemy. Praying none were there.

Nothing.

At the end of the aisle we turned right and started down the second row. We paused at each cubicle. Then we heard breathing. Heavy and laboured.

Something was here with us. Whatever it was, it was too close.

"Who's there?" I shouted. No answer, but the heavy breathing became louder.

Coming from straight ahead. Somewhere down this aisle.

I dispatched a small group of the Alpha Dogs to go back the way they came, then to circle around and come back up from behind the source of the sound, effectively trapping the heavy breather between the two groups.

"Hello," I said again. If there were human beings here, he wanted to give them every possible chance to get past their fears.

No response.

I'd seen how hard it was to kill the bastards, I was severely lacking in ammo, and I had no idea how many of the things were laying in wait.

"This is gonna be a bloodbath," Boomerang whispered nervously.

Flag shot him a dirty look. _Shut up, idiot,_ it said.

We found it, crouched behind a desk in the far cubicle. Breathing ominously. It was wearing tatters of once had been a uniform.

A Seal uniform.

Its eyes were red with hate and less than an hour before this monster was one of us. Other creatures were crouched behind him. Their eyes too, red with bloodlust and hate. All of their hundreds of eyes. Kane, Perez, Sprang, Winslow… GQ's friends and teammates. People with whom he had once trusted his life. Monsters who now only wanted to kill him.

They were waiting.

They were ready.

Time seemed to slow down.

I signaled for Alpha Team to stop.

Deadshot saw the eyes burning red. He pulled on his mask and flipped its monocle into place. Then he saw Harley staring at him, shaking her head, laughing. "Pussy," she said. "Not tough enough? Afraid of them? Did I tell you I took out two? All by myself."

"Shut up." Deadshot snapped back. "I will knock your ass out. I do not care if you are a girl."

Harley laughed again. "Promises, promises. It's like I-"

All hell broke loose before she could even finish her sentence.

The EAs opened fire.

I jumped for cover.

"Ambush front!" Flag bellowed. "Move!"

I was overwhelmed. Three more creatures rushed in through the door. I saw Flag run towards the opposite side of the room, firing anything that moved.

"Where the hell are you going, Flag?" I fired at the scurrying monsters. Though it was close quarters, they were damned hard to hit in the darkness.

"We're out in the open, waiting to be picked off," Flag replied. "We need cover. Find a corner, it'll be easier to defend."

I agreed. "Front. Right. Go." I shouted to the rest of the squad.

Flag ran down the rightmost aisle. He shot at the eyes of the creatures following him, then there was the sound of shattering glass. More EAs streamed in through what had been a side window, and were on his trail.

The way ahead was cut off, too, sandwiching him in, leaving no place to run.

I scanned the room. These things ignored the Seals-they were all targeting Flag.

"They're after Flag!" I shouted to the Tier Ones.

"His problem, I've got my own." Boomerang said.

"No, they're leaving us alone… maybe just for now. Circle up. Circle around him. We gotta save him." I yelled.

"You're crazy," Boomer said.

"Do what I say, goddamn it!"

Hayes rolled his eyes like a teenager. "Yes, Mrs. Flag." He said sarcastically.

Flag was surrounded, but he kept ice-cold calm as he unloaded mags into the things. Suddenly, I grabbed him by the waist and pulled him back. The squad formed into a circle, and I shoved him into the middle of it.

"Get in here," Deadshot shouted.

Flag stared at me. "You crazy? Let me fight!"

"You ain't dying'." Deadshot replied. The circle closed around Flag.

The convicts who hated him were now saving him. The world had turned upside down when he wasn't looking.

"They're trying to kill me," Flag shouted.

Deadshot grinned. "They're gonna have to get in line behind me."

More of the things. I recognised too many of them. They swarmed through the office and rushed the circle, ready to breach it and tear Flag apart.

"Shoot!" I shouted. "Don't stop 'til I tell you to!"

GQ raised his gun and aimed it at an approaching creature. Then he stared at it, surprised and horrified. "Doug?" But then Doug charged him, GQ fired instinctively.

It took ten rounds to explode Doug's head. His legs buckled under him and he collapsed. GQ stared at the body and took out a handkerchief to dry his eyes before anyone else saw him.

General William Sherman was so damn right it hurt. _War is hell._

An EA took out Bolland and Conway, two of the Seals assigned to protect Flag.

Three other creatures grabbed their legs and dragged them away, while still more spotted Flag and rushed toward him.

There was a quiet whoosh, followed by the thud of their two heads crashing to the floor. Their bodies collapsed only a second later.

Katana stood behind them and ran her hand down her blade. "You have already absorbed so many souls," she whispered to it. "Sadly, the day is still young."

Another EA leaped at her, pushed her to the ground then dragged itself up to her face. Its thousand eyes stared at her.

"A thousand eyes but you see nothing," Katana said as her blade ripped up through the creatures chest and into its throat. She twisted, and the head fell free, reluctantly joining the others she'd severed.

More streamed into the room. They ignored us Seals and ran toward Flag. Deadshot shot him a look.

"They only want you," Deadshot said questioningly. "They're ignoring the rest of us. Maybe we should let them have you."

"They know who the big kahuna is," Flag responded. "Lop off the boss, and the rest will follow."

"You wish," Deadshot replied.

"Then I'll see you in hell, wont I?"

"Behind you. Shut up and duck." Deadshot opened fire. It took three mags before their crusted, barnacled faced had been reduced to little more than mush. He stared at his gun. He was out of ammo.

Another EA rushed him. GQ saw Grey, the huge Dutchman he had saved less than an hour earlier. He was no longer a soldier. No longer human.

My two SIGs had a full mag in each. I emptied both into the big guy, but Grey refused to go down. He grabbed Flag in a tight bear hug and began to squeeze.

I rushed across the room and retrieved the gun Bollard had dropped then the EAs took him out.

In a practiced move, I checked the mag was fresh. Then, I spun and unloaded it.

Simultaneously, Flag pulled out his hunting knife and hammered the pommel into the things face. Again and again.

Grey refused to fall. He kneed Flag in the stomach and the soldier fell to his knees, gasping for breath.

The big Dutchman raised both fists to finish him off, but abruptly shuddered, then fell forward. I was behind him, and I stabbed the EA again with Flags dagger... Grey turned, roaring in anger and pain, and charged him.

He had a new target to kill. I backed away to give myself more room.

I stared at my attacker and goaded him. "Get away from him you ugly piece of shit!" I slammed the dagger into the EAs gut as revenge, dropping him to his knees. I rushed him, but the thing climbed back to its feet and somehow blocked the blade.

Grey was weak and trembling. He tried to throw another punch, but I easily ducked it, then smashed the dagger through Grey's face, burying it deep into his eyes, mashing them into pulp. The EA again fell to his knees, then shuddered and collapsed to the ground. I slammed by boot into its face and finished him off.

The EA was dead, but still quivering. I stared at it angrily as I raised my boot again.

Hayes stopped me. "He used to be one of us."

"Theirs, not ours." I slammed my foot down hard, watched the EA's body spasm one last time, and then stepped off him. "Now he's nobody's. And that's how it's done. You put 'em down, I flatten 'em."

Boomerang looked at the creature I'd just beaten, and saw it twitch. "Not quite dead enough. Hold on a sec." Boomer rested his foot on the thing's chest, then raised a razor-edged boomerang over its head. As the blade plunged down, the EA jerked to the side. The blade cut a deep gash into its neck but just missed severing it from its head.

The creature pulled back and freed its hand. It was holding a knife. It thrust up and sunk into Boomer's chest. With a gasp, Harkness fell back.

Harley stared at him, falling to his knees. "Oh my God, Boomer." She shrieked. "That thing killed Boomer!"

Boomerang was frightened and confused. He stared at the knife, then angrily turned back to the EA and slammed his boomerang into its neck, this time slicing through flesh and bone. Its head lobbed to the side.

Harley ran to him, staring at the knife still embedded in his chest.

"Omigod, why aren't you dead?" She turned to Deadshot, who was also staring. "He should be dead, shouldn't he?" Harley asked again.

Boomer pulled the knife from his chest, and tossed it aside. He opened his vest and revealed underneath thick packs of money, recently appropriated from the Midway Bank. Miraculously, they had protected him from the blade. Boomer pulled out the pack of bills and kissed them. "Who said money can't buy happiness?"

Flag stared at him, doubled over. "For once, I'm speechless."

I turned to him and helped him stand up. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, you saved my life so many times today, I'll have to open a tab."

I laughed.

Harley looked at the bills, then glared at Harkness. "Tell me you bought enough for everyone?"

Boomer shrugged his answer.

"Get back," GQ ordered, a grenade launcher rested on his shoulder as he got into position.

"What the hell is G.I. Joe doing?" Boomerang asked. "Nothing's standing for you to knock down."

"There's still nests of EAs. Might as well thin the herd." I tucked my shoulder under Flag's arm and lurched him out of the way as he grasped his vest.

"Sounds good," Boomerang agreed.

Deadshot turned to Diablo. And chuckled. "They used to be people, you know, Moms, Dads, kids. How does wiping out entire families sound to you, big guy?"

Diablo stared back at him, and it was clear that the words had struck home. His eyes flashed with anger, and he clenched and unclenched his fists. "How dare you?" he shouted. His hands erupted with fire, his fingers flaming candles. "You've crossed the line, Lawton."

The skin on his face reddened, and Deadshot was suddenly very afraid.

Lawton edged back, away from Diablo. "Hey, I'm sorry." He said, the uncommon fear washing over him. "I didn't mean anything. I swear it. I went way overboard and I know it. I'm sorry."

Diablo turned away and reclaimed his calm. "Never again, Lawton. Never talk to me again."

Deadshot nodded. "You got it, man. What you say. God with me." He turned to the others. "What the hell was I thinking?"

Flag was grim. "Just don't repeat it."

"No way man, never."

As we backed away, GQ launched a 40mm grenade deep into the office building. We watched and waited.

"Five seconds. Four…

"Three…

"Two…

The grenade detonated. The front windows blew out. Stone, steel, and plaster exploded in all directions. The building shook, blasting creatures off the ceiling, shredding others into pieces. Half and EA crashed close to Flag and I. It was still holding its rifle and somehow it was still alive.

Carter picked up his gun, about to shoot it through the head, but the Thing shot first, killing him.

Croc stared at the dead Seal, then the slammed his foot down on the EAs face, smashing it to a pulp.

No additional combatants appeared, and the remaining Seals whooped, high-fiving each other, celebrating their victory.

Flag stumbled back, letting them have their moment. When push came to shove, they all worked together.

They were becoming a team. I hadn't thought it would ever happen.

I knelt in front of Flag. "Are you okay?" I held his exhausted face in my hands, examining him closely.

His olive eyes locked mine. "Yeah," he breathed finally.

"Thank god." I sighed. Knowing no one ever bothered to check on Flag except me, I brushed my lips against his for a second. "Don't do that again."

"Nothing I can't handle," he grimaced.

I pulled out his dagger from my holster and handed it back to him, blade to me. "Here. I didn't gave it back to you."

He smiled and put his hand on mine. "Keep it. I might need you to save my ass again."

I smirked and flipped it back into my pouch. "We lost another one, Flag. Who's gonna be next?"

He nodded once, his mouth a grim line. "No more, I hope."

"You can't promise that," I stood up, and checked my mags.

"No, But I can promise _you_ won't."

I sighed.

When the team finally calmed down, Flag called out to them, as I helped him stand up.

"It's time." He said. "We're on the clock. Move it. Get off the X."

He headed for the exit, not looking back but confident they were close behind.

Maybe there was hope for this motley crew, after all.

The atrium balcony circled the government complex, imposing a deep vertigo effect on anyone who saw it, from new visitors to long-term employees.

Amanda Waller had worked there for years but she still had to grab the handrail when she made her way from office to office.

Waller was rooted to the ops center, monitoring the enemy as well as Flag and his soldiers. Time was running out, she thought. Her Suicide Squad still had too many EAs to fight before they could complete their mission. She looked to her tech. "Center on Flag." She barked, "but give me a wide shot. I need to see exactly where he's taking them."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, and he reorientated the drone camera.

She watched Flag and the others circle the dizzying balcony.

"They're heading for the stairs," she said. "That's good. That's exactly where I need them to go. How much further?"

The tech pulled up a distance ruler and laid it over the scene. "Approximately eight hundred yards, ma'am."

"Okay, good. He has bases covered. Thank God."

Flag was doing his job. Waller had expected nothing less. She'd harboured serious doubts about his temper, once upon a time, and worried if its quick burn would hamper the assignment. Flag was known to humiliate the soldiers if they didn't snap to attention and follow his orders.

The man didn't have a clue how to play with the others, but he was the best tactician Waller had ever known. She'd decided long ago to put up with his quirks, as long as he achieved the desired results.

Still, she had a reason to be nervous, if he pushed the wrong way with the soldiers, they were required to follow his orders. But if he tried pulling his crap with the villains, they could just as easily burn him before she could activate their detonators.

With Flag she'd traded charm for proficiency. Her rule of thumb had always been, you put the best you got on the field then let them do what they do. As far as this mission was concerned, Waller would hire Hitler himself if he'd get the job done.

Flag was a pro. He'd fought this assignment, but ultimately she'd pulled rank and made it impossible for him to turn it down.

She sat back as the tech scanned the balcony ahead of the soldiers.

Nothing on the horizon. Good.

"Ma'am," the tech said suddenly. "See that?" He pointed at a shadow moving across the wall behind Flag.

"What is it?"

The tech scrunched his eyes and stared at the monitors. "Not sure, but I think it's coming from the catwalk. Hold on a sec, ma'am, let me pull focus and adjust the drone's video range."

Waller watched as the picture on the monitor tilted up, revealing the glass catwalk about twenty feet above the balcony and mirroring its position.

A dozen EA's skittered across it.

"Ma'am, that's what cause the shadows."

"You think?" She glanced at the tech, sitting at his station, waiting for orders. "Idiot. Why are you just sitting there? Sound the alert." She ordered.

The frightened tech hit the alarm, but it was too late. The newly arrived EA's were firing at the squad, and Flag and his men were already running for cover.

Waller quietly cursed. Time was running out.

Flag and the remaining Seals dove into offices, then leaned back out, returning fire.

"You know what to do," he shouted, his voice tinny over the speakers. "Aim for their eyes."

"You think?" Boomerang retorted.

Waller saw two EAs explode. She glanced at another monitor, focused a few yards away, and saw Harkness throwing his explosive boomerangs at the EAs.

 _Not bad,_ she mused. _He's actually holding up his end of the deal. I wasn't a hundred percent certain he would._


	16. Chapter 16 Joker's demise?

Deadshot crouched behind an overturned desk and fired at the enemy. He fired into two different creatures, then watched, grinning, as the EAs blew apart into thick chunks.

Diablo stood a few yards away, and stared at him, doing nothing else.

"Hey, matchstick," Lawton shouted over the carnage. "We could use your help."

Diablo shook his head. "This is not my fight. I'm not your saviour." Then he frowned. "And I told you never to talk to me."

Angry as a bull, Deadshot dove over to Diablo and stabbed a finger in the man's chest. "Okay, Mr Walk-The-Earth-In-Peace, do whatever the hell you want to me, but man, you are the worst. I thought I no longer had much to love for, but dammit, you're just straight gave up."

Diablo wasn't fazed. "I did not ask to be here. I warned everyone before this began. I do not engage in violence. Not anymore. If you want to live, it's all on you. Leave me out of it."

"Yeah, hell no. You're not turning into a loser on my watch." Deadshot stared at him then turned to Flag. "Hey, Yo! Use your remote thingie. Blow this cat's head off. Do him the favour, huh?"

"I'm kinda busy here, Lawton, in case you can't tell." Flag was firing at the creatures closest to him. It look at least two mags to bring them down to their knees, and a stab in the head to put them out of their misery.

Deadshot tuned to Diablo. "You're a punk," he shouted. "You know what? We're all getting smoked and you wanna go out like a bitch?"

Diablo tried to ignore him, but his face went flushed. He mumbled something, but Deadshot kept yelling at him. Kept hitting him.

I saw Diablo's hands redden and I knew he was finally getting to him. He had to be careful now. Very careful.

Deadshot slammed his fist into Diablos face. "C'mon, baby. Do somethin'." He shouted.

The big man's skin turned a deep red, and began steaming.

"You can do it, little girl. You can fight back. Be a man. Do something," he screamed. "Do something!"

Perry crouched nearby, firing at a creature that calmly made its way toward him. The EA aimed his rifle and fired. Perry stared plaintively at Diablo, and died.

"What are you waiting for, baby?" Deadshot kept hitting Diablo, trying to get him to react. Trying to wake him from his stupor and help save them, because no one else could.

I looked over at Diablo, furious. "You know if you helped, these soldiers wouldn't have to die. Why won't help them? Why won't you do something? _Anything_?"

Diablo looked at the dead Seal, then at the EA, then back at Perry. He screamed with rage and frustration.

Deadshot started to say something but Diablo shoved him aside. He raised his hands and flames appeared. He screamed again, and launched a column of fire at the creature. It burst into flame and writhed in pain as I melted.

"Hey, c'mon man," Deadshot said, and there was panic in his voice. "Be cool. You don't wanna roast me. I was just trying to get you there. We need you, man- to save the whole planet, and look. You showed them you're a hero. You know what that means. You're the big time, man. The Fire Man. Hero of the people, and all you gotta do is focus."

Diablo peered venomously at Deadshot. He reached out to grab him, and his hands were still on fire, hungry to burn.

Harley pushed past Deadshot and gazed intensely at Diablo. "It's true, you know," she shouted. "What he said. You were wonderful, D. You saved us, and even better, my big, fiery hero, you saved me. "She was standing on her toes, and she gave him a kiss on the check. "Oooh, D, you make me so hot 'n' bothered, touching you is like canoodling a furnace. Maybe a little hotter, but I think I like it."

He stared at her and lowered his internal heat, and he returned to normal. "I am sorry if I frightened you, Harley." He said. "I would never have hurt you."

"Hey, D, I know that." She responded. "I mean, you and me. Would make a hot couple, or what?"

"Good job, Diablo." Flag said. "Thanks for finally joining the rest of us."

Deadshot leaned in. "Ignore him, you did good. Real good."

I looked at Diablo in disbelief. So he did actually have a meta-human quality to him, after all. "You throw fire?… okay." I strode past to catch up with the Colonel.

Flag rested against the balcony wall. The squad was coming together, but still they were just a handful of nut jobs and psychopaths, acting like heroes. They were about to go into battle against a pair of big bads who would create as many deadly creatures as they needed.

We were overwhelmed and underprepared. Despite this small victory, it wouldn't be long before we fell before the greater power.

I joined Flag and stared out across the balcony. A few EAs appeared here and there, but GQ and his team dealt with them as quickly as they could. They watched another Seal die, but not before taking down five bad guys. We didn't need to calculate the numbers to know that we would run out of fighters long before the spuds did.

"You know in the beginning, it was near impossible to stop them," I commented. "Less impossible now. Maybe they're cranking out these things too fast. Not giving their babies a chance to grow up."

Flag thought about it. "Could be," he replied. "Doesn't matter though. Easy or hard, they still gotta die, and we gotta be the ones to make sure they do."

We made our way to the top floor, then stopped in front of the huge steel vault door marked _Emergency Operations_. It blocked us from continuing.

"So, Flag," I said, "why are they after you like that? I mean, it's obvious you are the man they're after, and since it sure ain't your cologne, what's your secret?"

"I have no idea." Flag croaked. "You're in charge. I need to hang back."

A ping of concern came over me. "What's wrong?"

"Just a little sore and tired right now. I just need a respite. Target is the train station. I will collect the HVT, and you lead the rest."

"Rick, You want me to lead this mission? Are you crazy? I'm trying to understand here, and I'm coming up blank."

"That sounds quite bizarre to you, doesn't it? In some ways, you are much more capable. But in other ways . . . there are many things you've probably never thought about seriously. I am putting you in charge of phase four."

Flag's expression was serious and reassuring at the same time. It was impossible to doubt him.

GQ came jogging in. "Sir, we need to get moving. We need more men. There's only nine of us left."

I looked around at them all, waiting on their next order.

Taylor, Hayes, Spenser, GQ, Gomez, Taylor, Dalton, Flag and I were the only Marines left.

My eyes darted to Flag, who rolled his eyes at GQ and looked away.

"Major Chapman is taking over."

GQ frowned. _What_? He mouthed.

"Trig's been promoted, in order to lead us to the target."

There was a tense silence between the three of us. Flag crossed to the steel door.

I turned to GQ. "Secure the roof. Sweep for shooters so we can bring our aviation assets."

"Next time, come up with something that's a challenge," GQ said, saluting.

I laughed. "I'll try better. Be careful. Alpha, on GQ. I'll meet you up there."

"Came all this way and now we can't get inside," Croc growled. "Flag, is this your idea of a joke?"

"Want me to blow up that baby?" Boomer said, holding a boomerang embedded with C-4. "I got just the right thing.'

"Don't be an idiot," I retorted. "This entire floor is mined. One wrong move and that's all she wrote."

"So what do we do?" Croc asked. "Get on our knees and pray someone gives us the right combination?"

I grimaced at Flag. The criminals had no idea.

Flag grinned back. "I've got this covered." He punched in a code into the keypad. He turned to Croc. "No need for someone else to give us the combination when I already have it."

Croc nodded. "Definitely makes it easier. For once, I approve." Then he added, "Why didn't you say something before?"

I sniggered, watching Flag fight back a smile.

"I like hearing you complain about nothing. The revelations keep you humble."

"That's never gonna happen," Deadshot said. "We're supposed to be in this together. Next time just give us the friggin' intel."

Ignoring him, Flag entered the last number then stepped back.

We heard the rollers retract as the vault door eased open. Flag stepped through, then turned back to the others. "I'm going in. You stay here. Don't wanna give the VIP a heart attack."

Harley grinned. "Aww, so sweet. He's embarrassed of us. Such a cutie."

Deadshot glared at the Colonel. "This whole mission just sucks. I'd be better off back in Belle Reve, serving twenty. Least they'd tell me what I was supposed to do."

"That can be arranged," I replied. "And by the way, who says we'd let you go back? Detonator, remember?"

"Bite me," Deadshot said. "This guy had better cure cancer after all this."

Flag gave him a twisted smile then headed through the vault door.

Minutes went by in silence, as I just stood there, watching the convicts every move.

Croc and Boomerang sat down, and Harley stood in the middle of the room, swinging her bat around her shoulders playfully.

Diablo leaned on a pile of tactical boxes.

"So, what's up with you and the Colonel, lady? What do we call ya, anyways?" Harley looked at me, wide eyed.

"None of your business." I snapped.

"Hey, yeah, c'mon, you might as well tell us a story, since we're waiting around with you pointing a gun in our faces." Boomerang sniffed.

I lowered my rifle a little and relaxed, not saying anything.

"Aww, you're in love?" Harley swooned. "So sweet."

Deadshot rolled his eyes. "Why? Dude is an asshole."

"Has to be, if he put me in charge." I mumbled.

"Yeah, see, I don't understand why he did that. Is he afraid of something?"

I shrugged. "Maybe he's sick of you being on his back all the time. He' just doing his job, okay? Nothing personal." That was wrong. It was personal. Flag hated these cons just as much as I did, if not more. Bad guys pretending to be heroes. As if that made up for anything?

"Yeah, well, he doesn't need to be so cranky." Harley replied.

Deadshot sighed. "What's taking so long in there? I'm going to find out, if you aren't."

I let Deadshot enter the room, but kept close watch on the others. "I wouldn't, but don't say I didn't warn you."

Another few minutes ticked by, and no one said anything.

Boomer was sharpening his boomerangs, and Croc was picking something out of his teeth.

"So why do you even like him? He's so intimidating." Harley ebbed as I stared at her. "He's not very nice."

My comms hashed. "Area is clear, boss."

"Good copy Bravo One, stand by." I replied.

Harley rolled her eyes. "C'mon, tell us. What's the big attraction? Or is it supposed to be a secret? Do you sleep with him to get ahead? 'Cause I totally respect that game."

I frowned. "It's none of your business."

"Must be a soldier thing." She said to Diablo, who looked back at her, confused.

"You talking to me?" He said.

She nodded. "I'm looking at you, aren't I? Just trying to figure them out."

"There's nothing to figure out, Harley. We're soldiers. Everything is black and white."

"So? How did you get together then?" Harley gave me a big smile.

She wasn't waning.

I sighed. "We have the same kind of life. We both lost a lot of friends, a lot of men. We kill for a living, and I guess it's hard to find someone who understands that's what we do, and the crap that goes with it. And, he saved my life."

Harley rested her chin on her hands like a little girl listening to a bedtime story. "And?"

I blushed.

"Oooh," Harkness whispered, looking at us from over his shoulder. He was listening, too.

"He put my life back together after I lost my best friend."

Diablo nodded with a smile and looked at the floor. "That's nice. So he is human, after all."

I flashed Diablo and surprised gaze. That was how I felt when I first got wind of Flag's real personality.

"That's lovely." Boomerang said. "But he's still a jerk."

I laughed. "We have to be to get the job done."

"Well, I tell ya, it's easier to boss around a buncha misfits when you're nicer to them. I got your back, lady."

"Trig."

"Huh?" Harley replied.

I sighed. "My name is Trig."

Croc smiled.

We saw Deadshot heading back toward us. Flag followed. Then Amanda Waller appeared behind them.

"No. Way." Harley said, and she stared.

"What the hell is going on, Flag?" Boomerang asked.

Flag pushed in until they were nose to nose. "Need to know, Harkness," he growled, and he didn't look happy. "Count your blessings rescuing her was this simple."

"Travel should be waiting for us on the roof. Follow me." I said, leading up the stairway.

"Getting here was simple?" Boomer echoes. "What parallel universe spawned you, Flag?"

They headed for the stairs to the roof behind me.

Harley shook her head back and forth, refusing to believe this.

"We're done." Flag bellowed. "Everyone shut up and let's go home."

"Yeah, right," Boomer said. "Mission accomplished. What could go wrong now?" He turned to Harley-she was walking beside him. "There's gonna be a nine-point-seven any minute now," he whispered.

Harley agreed. "I bet you walk under ladders and chase black cats, too." She said, giggling.

He grinned back at her. "I make my own luck, darlin'." he said. "I say we kill both of 'em right now before they kill us."

She was about to respond when Katana, silent as always, came up behind them.

"Later," Harley whispered. "We're gonna need a bigger boat." She looked at Croc Boomer.

Katana moved in closer to Waller, but the woman held up her detonator. She didn't need protecting. "Y'all made it this far," she said grim as ever. "Don't get high spirited on me and ruin a good thing."

Croc watched as she pushed open the door and walked up past me, to the roof. "I like her."

Boomer shook his head. "Whatta bunch of wankers. You guys got no self-respect."

I laughed. "A village in Australia is missing its idiot. You should call home."

"That I will, sweet thing," he said. "And tell 'em exactly where they can find you."

The Seals were waiting on the roof. They watched the Chinook as it circled over them, then arced down to come in for a landing.

"Ride's here," I called.

Moving to the edge, the Squad stared down from the roof at the remains of what had been a thriving city. So many buildings were lying in rubble now. Other burned out of control. Every where they looked they saw terrible devastation. They doubted there had been time to save anything. Good for looting, but given a choice, all of us knew we would rather get the hell out of there.

I saw Flag staring over at me. I knew we were both thinking the same thing. He nodded, and looked up at the Chinook hover just above us. Something was wrong, but I was unable to put my finger on it.

We stared at the Chinook hovering directly above the Federal Building, but not descending to its landing dock. Why wasn't it landing? Something was wrong.

GQ shouted into his comm. "Saviour One Zero. Why are you holding? Saviour One Zero, respond."

There was no answer. GQ traded looks with Flag. "They're not talking to me." He said to me finally.

I turned to the Squad. These were exactly the kind of scum who would throw a curveball like this. I turned back to GQ. "Our bird's been jacked." I said with certainty. "Light it up!" I thought it would be interesting to see how my killers would react.

GQ and the Seals opened fire on the Chinook. It suddenly slipped sideways, circling to reveal the tail ramp. I could see a big man inside it, spinning a six-barrelled chain gun. It pumped lead like water in a fire hose.

Flag shouted. "Get down, now!"

Everyone scattered in different directions.

One of the Bravo Seals let out a gasp then fell to the ground.

A bullet tunnelled through his forehead and exploded out the back. The other Seals hit the deck, taking cover behind the roof's parapet.

Harley hunkered down just a few yards from Deadshot. She saw him staring weirdly at her neck. "What? I got a hickey or something?"

He looked at the indicator light just under her skin. It was blinking green.

She looked at the screen of her phone. She'd gotten a text.

Finally, I saw the Joker step out onto the Chinook's tail ramp. He had a huge assault rifle, pointing it and shooting frantically with his trademark devilish laugh.

Frost hosed down the roof with his chain gun, scattering Seals and the Squad team. Next to him, the Joker tossed out a rope. It unrolled down to the roof, then dragged towards the edge.

"Harley, it's up to you now," he said over the sound of the rotors.

Without hesitation, she ran for the edge of the roof and leaped to catch the rope. As she held on, the chopper nosed down and veered away.

"Kill her!" Waller shouted.

Flag was pressing the button on his tablet, but it didn't work. "Her nanite's disarmed!"

Frost kept firing at keep us pinned down. He only stopped after they cleared the immediate area.

I stared at Harley climbing the rope to the copter.

"Mr Lawton," Waller said. "You kill that woman right now."

Deadshot glared at her. "She ain't done shit to me."

"You're a hitman right? I got a contract. Kill Harley Quinn. For your freedom and your kid."

Deadshot nodded. He lifted his carbine and aimed it at Harley, her copter rapidly receding into the distance. "This won't be easy, lady. They're already so damned far. And I don't have time to calibrate wind velocity. Good as I am, I make no promises."

"I'll hold you to that anyway. Kill her."

Was he growing a conscience? After all this time? I was pretty sure that was a _no._ That would be the death of Deadshot.

He tightened his finger on the trigger.

"Now Lawton."

He squeezed it.

"I missed."

"Yeah, like hell."

"No, it was the wind. There was no way to compensate for it. Not without my equipment, and certainly not while the target was moving in an unsteady chopper. Trust me. I've got no love for that nutjob, but you were asking for the impossible. Despite everything, I came damn close."

Waller walked off, angry as hell. Deadshot stood, watching as Boomer gave him a reassuring nod. "Good one, mate."

I looked up and saw Harley pull herself into the Chinook. Its tail-gate closed behind her.

Deadshot was surrounded by the squad- they were cheering for his _accidental miss_.

Waller was livid, but Flag looked at Lawton and smiled.

The head of A.R.G.U.S reached for her phone and punched in a pre-set. "Saviour One Zero's been hijacked." She shouted. "Shoot it down." She was determined to get her kill, I knew. "Thank you, now get me off this roof."

"Well, this has become a brown-eyed mullet," boomer complained. "We started with six. Now we're four."

"Not sure we needed Quinn." Lawton said. "Maybe if she was taking her meds, but she's a loose cannon. And we certainly didn't need what's his name?'

Boomer laughed. "Slipshod. Sliprope. Slip something. Who cares? But the real stinker here is we're bein' run by a knocker who's shoot us all herself, if we gave her half a reason."

"We're better off alone," Deadshot agreed. "Just the four of us."

The helicopter was clipped by a missile, then it flipped over hard and slammed into the alley nose first and tilted on its left side. It was engulfed by flames as it exploded and the rotors were severed, digging themselves into the pavement below.

I fought the urge to watch as the chopper fell.

But I had seen it, the chopper spinning, falling, one of Joker's boys hanging on with one hand, both feet in the air, riding it down.


	17. Chapter 17 Don't stop now

Flag and the others stood on the Federal Building roof as the Blackhawk arrived and hovered alongside the edge. Captain George opened the door as Katana and Flag helped Waller board. "Stand by," she ordered. "I'll send another helo for the rest of you." The Black hawk lifted, moved off, and then screamed to the street in a near free fall, leveling just yards before it would have hit the ground. It slowly regained altitude and fired off amber flares behind it to distract any incoming missiles.

 _She leaves us behind and takes off all by her lonesome_ , I thought. _That's one paranoid bitch._

On the roof of the Federal Building, along with GQ and the others, when Flag's comm feed buzzed. He saw Waller's ID flash across his screen.

"Queen Bee," he said. "You copy? Havoc for Queen Bee."

I lowered my own phone. "Operations just confirmed she's down on K West."

Flag turned to Deadshot, but Lawton already guessed what was coming next. "Let's go," he said. "The mission's not over."

"It is for me." Deadshot stepped back. He wasn't having any of this. "We had a deal."

Flag shook his head. "The deal was to get her to safety. She's not there." He turned and raced down the stairwell, followed by Katana, GQ, and the half-dozen or so surviving Seals. Deadshot and the Suicide Squad watched, angry about the sudden shift in events.

"So, what now?" Diablo asked.

Deadshot was seething. "Got no choice," he said. "The rescue blew up in our faces. Let's get this the hell over with."

"Hooray. I'm back!" As we exited the Federal Building, Harley sat on the hood of a Beemer, looking beat-up beautiful. "I missed you guys _sooo_ much."

She was smiling at us, but It could tell the grin was forced. Grime clung to her face where there had been tears.

"Aren't you dead?" I said bluntly.

"I got better," she replied. "These things happen, you know."

Deadshot gave her a thumbs up. "Well, I don't believe I'm saying this, but I'm glad you made it," he said, offering his hand to help her off the car.

She took it and slid to the pavement. "So who are we supposed to kill now?" She leaned close to Deadshot and talked to him in a stage whisper for everyone to hear. "Tell me it's him," she said, theatrically pointing at Flag, who was staring back at her.

"You're hilarious, Quinn," The Colonel said.

She curtsied then danced off, joining the others. "That's exactly what Mister J always tells me."

"Hey, Craziness!" A deep voice called to her. She turned, catching the baseball cap Boomer tossed to her. She laughed as she dropped it on her head and thumbed it to a sexy tilt. Like it or not, she was one of the guys.

I took my out my comms and dialled in. "Tac, respond?"

Chatter replied from the comm.

"This is LTC Chapman. Reinforcements required two clicks north, one click east. ASAP."

"Confirmed." _Click_. Static.

I looked at GQ. "Done. Now let's get there before they do and plow the road."

GQ shot a look at Flag. _Really?_ It said.

Flag nodded at me. "Yes, boss."

"Get your boys moving," I said to GQ as I picked up my rifle and check the mag.

GQ gave me a tight smile. "You heard the lady, let's go!" He shouted.

The remaining Alpha and Bravo Seals moved out, following me closely. Flag strolled along side GQ. Flag's Squad tagged along quietly, taken aback by the recent attacks.

I could hear them talking between them, but not enough to know what they were saying.

"There's something . . . strange about the way you and Flag are together," Hayes murmured, his forehead creasing over his troubled eyes as he strolled beside me. "The way he watches you - it's so . . . protective. Like he's about to throw himself in front of a bullet to save you or something."

I laughed, though I was still not able to meet his gaze. "That's a bad thing?"

"No." He frowned as he struggled for the words. "It's just _different_. He's very intense about you . . . and very careful. I feel like I don't really understand your relationship. There's some secret I'm missing. . . ."

"I think you're imagining things, Danny Boy," I said quickly, struggling to keep my voice light.

There was a flutter in my stomach. I'd forgotten how much my men _saw_.

"It's not just him." He set his lips defensively. "I wish you could see how you move around him."

"What do you mean?"

"The way you move - you orient yourself around him without even thinking about it. When he moves, even a little bit, you adjust your position at the same time. Like gravity. You're like a . . . satellite, or something. I've never seen anything like it." He pursed his lips and stared down.

"Don't tell me," I teased, forcing a smile. "You're reading mysteries again, aren't you? Or is it sci-fi this time?"

Hayes flushed a delicate pink. "That's beside the point."

"Found anything good?"

"Well, there was one - but that doesn't matter. We're talking about you right now."

I nodded slowly. "What do you want, Hayes?"

"You two are more serious than I'd been thinking," he went on.

I frowned, quickly reviewing the last two days in my head. Flag and I had barely touched - in front of him, at least. I wondered if Danny Hayes was about to give me a lecture on responsibility, too.

"I don't like it." He said, his tone rebellious.

"That's none of your business, Hayes," I warned, internally cursing Ellis straight to the fiery pits of Hades.

"I don't like it," he repeated anyway.

"You don't have to," I snapped.

"He looks at you like...like you're a mission," he continued, ignoring me.

I choked back the hysteria that threatened to explode, but a small giggle managed to _get_ out despite my efforts.

He glowered at me.

Something stronger than butterflies battering recklessly against the walls of my stomach, my argument with Hayes already a distant memory.

I felt a wave of real terror. Did they know that I knew? Was I supposed to know that they knew that I knew, or not?

It felt like forever to get to the rendezvous, but we arrived without any more assaults or comments from Hayes.

But a sound in the distance came shortly after, and Black Hawk set down in the middle of the debris strewn street. Several more men got out and stood to attention as soon as they stepped off.

I watched as the Black Hawk disappeared into the distance as fast as it had arrived.

"Sir, we're awaiting orders. What can we do for ya?" One of the men said as he saluted Flag.

Flag rolled his eyes and took his rifle out from behind his shoulder. "Kiss her ass, she's in charge."

The men shifted uncomfortably, except the man who spoke. He paused. "Squad Six at your command, ma'am."

"Did you say Squad Six?" I asked, squinting to get a closer look at the men. But before anyone had a chance to speak, I heard footsteps in the distance. "Never mind, on your toes, boys. The spuds heard the chopper. Light it up!"

Flag and the remaining Seals dove into the debris, anything that could be used as cover. I found an old concrete barrier, and unloaded my mag into one of the creatures who headed towards us.

 _Not Flag again,_ I thought as I tried to un-jam my rifle.

But this time, they weren't heading for him.

"I need cover fire!" I screamed out as I tried desperately to load a new mag into my rifle. Giving up, I threw it aside and reached into my holster for the SIG Sauer. No one heard me, and three huge EAs headed straight towards me.

"Chapman!" GQ shouted as he opened fire on them.

I saw two EA's explode a few yards away, and the other kept charging towards me, then another, and another.

"They're after Trig now!" Someone yelled as more EAs blew up before me.

I leaned back out from the barricade and returned fire on the Things.

The volume of fire was terrifying. I noticed that the gunfire that had hurt my ears initially now sounded muffled, distant.

My ears had adjusted to it.

One…

Two…

Three, Four..

I fired into two different EAs, then watched, grinning, as they blew apart into black chunks.

GQ flipped his cap backwards and shrugged his grenade launcher onto his shoulder. He looked back quickly, to make sure no one was directly behind him. He fired, and launched a column of smoke at a group of creatures.

It burst into flame and they writhed in pain as the fires burned through them, melting them. Incinerating them.

Something hit me, and it stung my shoulder like a searing hot needle. It pushed me back, but I regained my balance.

Flag was firing at the creatures closest to him. It took at least two full mags to bring them to their knees and another to put them out of their misery.

Finally, the gunfire ceased.

I slammed my SIG on the ground and stopped to catch my breath. But as I did so, I caught a glimpse of my leg, and it was bleeding. "Shit. Not now." I wasn't going to let it stop me. We were almost at the target and I needed my strength.

"You okay, boss?" GQ strode over, panting.

I grunted and tried to stand up, but my leg felt numb and I stumbled back.

"You've been hit!" Flag screamed out, rushing toward me. Watching him running with all that gear was exhausting. The body armour was like wearing a wet suit. He was sweating profusely and breathing heavily as the skidded to a stop beside me.

I looked down at my shoulder, and sure enough, blood was inking through a hole in my shirt. Flag drew his knife from my pouch and cut away the shoulder of my shirt to check the wound. He slid his hand inside my vest at my left shoulder and I felt a vicious stab of pain. But at least now both of my shoulders had taken a hit each.

"Having trouble breathing?" Hayes asked, a flicker of worry in his voice as Flag removed his blood covered hand.

"No."

"Any tightness in your chest?"

"I feel all right," I said.

"Medic!" Hayes yelled, hoping one of the reinforcements was one? I wasn't going to be much use without one.

I felt no pity and I was beyond fear as I removed my Flak, and there was a perfectly round hole in my right shoulder about a two-inch swollen, bruised ring around it, but there was no exit wound. The bullet had evidently fragmented on impact with the concrete barrier and only the jacket had penetrated my shoulder. It had flattened on impact with my collar bone and just slid around under the skin to the side of the joint. The remainder of the bullet had peppered my upper arm, which was bleeding.

One man came jogging over, as Flag pushed two fingers directly into the wound up to his knuckles. I screamed out and I felt dizzy. The flowing of blood continued, and I knew I had a critical bleed.

The medic talked to me, trying to calm me down. The only way to stop the bleeding was to find the severed bullet and plug it. Otherwise it was like trying to stanch a fire hose by pushing down on it through a mattress.

He told me to lean back. "This is going to be very painful," he told me apologetically. "I'm going to have to cause you more pain, but I have to do this to help you."

"Just do it." I was still very alert and engaged.

Flag was in front of me now, frowning with worry. I hadn't seen a face like that in any war. Ever.

I trembled with the pain. Having Flag around me kept me going, but that was about all that did. You could be prepared for the sights and sounds and smells of war, but the horror of it, the blood and gore and heart wrenching screams of pain, the sense of death perched right on your shoulder, breathing in your ear, there was no preparation for that. Things felt balanced on an edge, threatening at any moment to spin out of control. Was this what I had wanted so badly? An old platoon sergeant had told me once, _'When war starts, a soldier wants like hell to be there, but once he's there, he wants like hell to come home.'_

Every wound I'd had hurt like hell-I merely forgot about it.

 _Oh how I wished Kowalski was here right now…_

Hayes and Taylor stood behind the medic and watched with concerned faces, Spenser turned around-he couldn't watch.

Flag crouched beside me, as the medic pulled out a pair of long nose pliers from his bag. He put one arm behind my right shoulder, leaning my shoulder against his chest. "Look at me, Jaz. Keeps your eyes open, keep breathing. Long and slow." His head was twisted around to look at me. His face was laced with worry, as he tried desperately to keep me focused on him.

Something sharper than knives ripped through my shoulder while the medic continued to root for the bullet.

Black spots covered the light as a cold point of new pain stabbed icily into my shoulder. It felt wrong—I struggled automatically to protect my wound, but I was weak. My lungs ached, oxygen burned away.

The pain faded away again, though I clung to it now.

How long had passed? Seconds or minutes? The pain was gone. Numb. I couldn't feel. Istill couldn't see, either, but I could hear. There was air in my lungs again, scraping in rough bubbles up and down my throat.

"You stay with _me_ now, Jaz! Do you hear me? Stay! You're not leaving us!" Flag was shouting to me, but it sounded faded and distant.

 _Of course_ , I wanted to tell him. Of course I would keep living.

I tried to feel my heart, to find it, but I was so lost inside my own body. I couldn't feel the things I should, and nothing felt in the right place.

I needed something more to draw strength from.

I couldn't pull even the medic's face into view. Not Flag's, not GQ's…Nothing. It terrified me, and I wondered if it was too late.

I felt myself slipping—there was nothing to hold on to.

 _No!_ I had to survive this. Colonel Flag was depending on me. I blinked and I found my eyes. I could see the light. Not what I was looking for, but better than nothing.

As my eyes struggled to adjust, the medic whispered, "Got it."

Then there was pain again—just one warm slash of it. I gasped and let my head fall back into Flag's chest.

"You're okay," Flag's voice vibrated through his chest as I turned my head away from the medic who was now putting pressure on the wound to stop the bleeding. "You did good."

"No morphine this time, Trig." Taylor laughed nervously, trying to keep me alert. "You didn't even cry."

"Shut up," I growled weakly, the black spots in my vision vanishing. I sat up, now that the medic had finished dressing the wound. He even bandaged the bullet scrape on my leg. The fire in my shoulder had subsided, allowing me to continue.

"I got you." Flag's hands pulled my waist up against his, and he put me on feet with ease. "Okay?" he looked down at the blood soaked bandage.

"I'm fine, stop making a fuss."

"I'll carry you if I have to." He insisted, unashamed.

I grunted. "Not necessary." I steadied myself against him, using him as a support.

"Quit being so stubborn, Chapman. You're wounded." Spenser said.

"Did you say _Chapman_?" One of the Seals pushed past the others who had set up a perimeter around us.

Underneath the black helmet, a familiar face stared blankly through the small crowd that surrounded me.

He looked at Flag, eyes raging. "Get your hands off her..."

Flag spun around and growled. "Staff Sergeant, do you know who you are talking to?"

I bit my lip and sighed. "Craig, back off."

"I don't care who you are. Don't touch my best friend's sister." Craig took a step closer to Flag, trying to intimidate him.

Flag was much taller than him though, and towered above him.

"Craig, what are you doing here?" I asked weakly.

SSG Craig didn't take his eyes off Flag. "I was deployed, I came. I had no idea this clown was in charge.

"I'm in charge, not him."

Craig's eyebrows flew up. "But he's Colonel Flag..."

"Yeah, and he gave me the orders to take charge. So here we are."

Flag looked down at Craig and grinned maliciously, a side of Flag I hadn't yet seen. His chin lifted arrogantly. "Stand down, Staff sergeant."

Craig glared up at him. "I wasn't talking to you, I'm talking to your boss."

"Craig, not now. Flag is still the authority here. So respect your superior." I snapped.

GQ laughed. "I think we have a female version of you, Flag."

Flag ignored him.

Gomez whispered something one of the Squad Six Seals, and they both laughed.

"Problem?" I barked.

Gomez gulped. "Forgive me, ma'am."

"Don't call me ma'am." I replied as I sat down again, and scrummaged through my pack for another bandage.

"Here," GQ handed me a fresh bandage and sat behind me on the barrier.

The Seals peeled off, surveying the area as they waited for me to repair myself. Hayes followed solemnly, as did Craig, but in a different direction. Craig kept watch on Flag as he walked away.

Flag peeled off from the rest of the group, but stayed within earshot, watching me closely.

Gomez approached me and looked down at my gushing bandage.

Old, clotted blood stuck to the edges of the cloth, as fresh blood seeped out.

He gagged and forced himself to look away. "LTC, I have to ask. Is there something going on between you two? You've been joined at the hip since the first attack. And Trig, you've already been promoted from Major to Lieutenant Colonel."

"Flag is injured, and exhausted. Let the man fall back. Nothing has changed." I taped the new bandage on top of the old one, and flexed my fingers, making sure they still had feeling. If the feeling of woolly itchy gloves meant there was still pain, I was going to keep my arm. I bent my elbow enough to prop my gun, and I was satisfied.

"I've seen you, Ma'am. There's more. Plus, you are now more injured than him."

"I told you not to call me that." I responded, irritated. "This is just a scratch."

Gomez snorted. "I'm not blind. How does one jump two ranks in a matter of hours without the exams?"

I shrugged. "He needed someone to take over so he can a break, okay?"

"But Flag likes you enough to give you his authority. I don't like it." Gomez said to me.

"Just shut the hell up and do what you're told. The politics are none of your business."

"Chapman is right," Spenser joined the conversation. "A soldier should be A-political."

Taylor scoffed. "Do you even know what A-political means?"

I grunted as I got back to my feet. "I-I've served under five presidents, never knowing who my next boss is gonna be. It's better not to care. Just do as you are told, no matter who is in charge. Unfortunately, break time is over."

Gomez grimaced and walked off to join the others.

GQ whistled lowly. "I see the way Flag looks at you, LTC. And I've known him a long time. He trusts you more than the rest of us." He whispered in my ear, being careful not to let Flag hear. "I might be young and dumb, I know Flag better than anyone. And as a soldier, I tell you to keep your distance. But as Flag's friend… he will follow you 'til the ends of the earth. I can see it on his face. You're made for each other."

I ignored him and shoved another mag into my rifle. I expected GQ to go ahead and follow Gomez, but he didn't. He stayed beside me in silence. Maybe he knew not to argue with an angry Tier One.

Harley Quinn jumped up and down, waving her hands, whooping and whistling. "Guys, over here! Guys. Hey, c'mon! Lookie what I found," she squealed, pointing to the crashed Blackhawk. "I found it. Can I keep it?"

Flag ignored her and peered inside the shattered cockpit. "Waller's not here," he announced.

"Where the hell is she?" GQ asked to no one in particular.

"She could have been thrown from it," Deadshot suggested. "If that happened while they were still in the air, she's street pizza now."

Flag didn't want to hear that. "Or she crawled out, which means she could be alive."

"I vote with Lawton," Boomer added, "and don't tell me you don't secretly agree. She is not a nice person."

"Same could be said about you, Boomer." I replied, stoic.

"Yeah, but I call myself a villain. I'm not pretending to be something I'm not."

Flag crawled into the copter and rummaged for clues. "Oh come on, Harkness. You wear that villain crap like it's a badge of honour, but you might just as well say, 'I hurt people for my own benefit,' because that's what it comes down to. You do whatever the hell you feel like doing, and everyone else be damned. So just shut the hell up and do what you're told."

"We got ourselves some restocks," Craig said as he and GQ unloaded ammunition from the rear of a downed aircraft.

"Take a case but leave the rest behind," I said. "We can't carry anymore." I was now walking unaided, though my shoulder stung a little. I figured if I left my right arm holding the barrel of my rifle, it would be okay, instead of moving it.

"Not a problem," Craig responded. "We can always go back and get more if we have to."

"You see anything, LTC?" GQ asked.

I looked through my scope toward the target.

"That's where we're going, right? I mean, 'cause we're certifiable idiots, so why wouldn't we?" Deadshot asked.

Flag stared at the floating ring, a wave of conflicting thoughts and emotions washed over his features.

Finally, I came to a conclusion. "Load up," I said. "We're in for a fight." As I motioned for the team to move out, I wormed back to the chopper for another helping of extra ammo. Enough was not nearly enough.

I reached into a box and saw a binder. On it, was stencilled "TASK FORCE TOP SECRET." I flipped through it, studying photos of the EAs.

There was also a selection of surveillance photos of a huge man, taken in the subway. My face tightened with anger.

The Colonel was taking the lead, talking with GQ as they prepared to head toward the rail station. The soldiers were getting ready to move into position.

"Hey, Flag!" I called out. I was pissed, and I threw the binder at him with my good arm. "Dammit, Flag, you knew exactly what we were walking into, didn't you?"

He shot me a look. "I'll tell you what you need to know, only when you need to know it. It's how things work. Do you know I own a pickup truck with a blown engine? Not everything is relevant."

"Lover's spat, guys?" Boomerang rested his chin on his hands and stared at us.

"Tell them," I said, "tell them everything, because they deserve to hear it."

GQ leaned in and whispered to Flag so the others wouldn't hear him. "She's right. It's the least we owe them."

Flag didn't like giving in to lowlifes. They didn't deserve the consideration, but the mission was too important to risk defections now.

"Okay, it won't make one helluva difference as far as you're concerned, but you want the dirt? Fine." He flipped through the binder and took out several photos of a ten-foot tall man, walking the streets of Midway City, laying waste to hundreds of soldiers. He put out dozens of photos, each one horrifying. "Three days ago, a non-human entity appeared in the subway station. It called itself Incubus. First the city government sent out cops to check it out. It killed them without raising a sweat. Then the military sent in the army. Despite being outfitted with every state-of-the-art weapon, the thing, Incubus, took them out too. In less than thirty seconds. So now they've sent us."

Flag rifled through the photographs. "If you were wondering, those were drone shots. When they tried to send in photographers, the thing killed them, too."

Deadshot laughed. "All those killings yet Flag's still breathing. Why do only the good die young?"

GQ sent him a _shut up_ look. He'd seen the photos, and understood that this was far more serious than anyone expected-Flag included.

"You have to understand the Incubus's power." Flag tossed through several other drone photos for them to look at. "Army rangers were sent to confront the creature. They shot at it, but the science team said our bullets impacted against its glowing armour, flared brightly for a second or two, and then dissolved. They tried to engage with it physically," he continued," but it used its powers, or whatever you to call them, and he reduced the rangers to crystalline blotches. Nobody could get near this thing. And that's what we're up against."

"So they thought they'd send us to die too?" Harley asked

Flag was about to give a snarky response, but held back. "Not at all." He said, almost apologetically. "None of them could get near it." He said quietly.

"You know, it takes the military years to take out someone like you, Flag. That's why we're here, isn't it. We're the last resort." I replied.

"The only option the world has left," he sighed but not proudly as I would have said it.

The Seals were silent, probably trying to wrap their minds around it all.

"Great. They're the damned Rockettes." GQ said. "So what's the plan to stop it?"

To my surprise, Flag looked defeated.

"There is no plan," I said, coming to his aid. "The suggestion box is wide open."

Flag looked at me, appreciatively.

Deadshot thought for a second. "They're hard as hell to kill. I don't think the government has enough bullets to put them all down, not if it can keep growing more. We have to nuke the place."

I pointed to the ring of debris a block away. "They thought of that," I said flatly. "There's a dozen W88 warheads trapped in that ring up there."

"How the hell is it floating? Are there wires hidden someplace I'm not seeing?" Boomerang asked.

I enjoyed watching his confusion. As we watched, the ring began to pulse with a dark, strobing light. Somehow it felt evil to me.

"What's it doing now?" Diablo questioned.

I ignored him, knowing no one had the answer.

The batteries in the crashed chopper were still functional, so I used them to light the area. As we prepared for the conflict ahead, Flag paused and addressed the entire squad. "We okay?" he said. Two words, but they carried a tremendous weight. He had to know he could count on them.

Harley squeaked. "Can I talk now?"

Flag rolled his eyes. She'd never stopped talking, but he nodded yes.

Harley took a deep breath, as if about to launch into another long, pointless diatribe. "Yeah, I'm good."

Taylor turned to the others. "Really?" he said. "Seriously? We've been fighting thousand eyed monsters who suck up three mags before they croak, and you're all good with this?"

"He spoke the truth," Diablo said. "That's all I wanted to hear."

GQ agreed. "Maybe he lied to us before, or withheld truths, but these monsters deserve to be destroyed. If they destroy mankind, they will certainly destroy us, too."

Exasperated, Boomerang paced and shook his arms wildly. "So let me get this straight. Nobody here is the slightest bit crackers that were going to war against some kind wizard and magical monsters?"

"Pretty much," Hayes said.

Deadshot then looked up at the floating ring of debris, still a block away." Go ahead and kill me, you're decision, I already made mine."

"Deadshot, we need your help," I pleaded.

"No Trig, you need a miracle."

There was no pretence here, no bravado. Just weary honesty.

"You know why those things chased after me all the time? Then started chasing Chapman? It's because we are the big cheese. They wouldn't bother if we didn't stand a chance of taking them out." Flag said.

"So what's your plan?" Taylor put his hands on his hips.

"Plan? Hell, I'm low on ammo and shooters, but I'm seeing it through."


	18. Chapter18 Divided we rise united we fall

Now I was somehow gathering whatever the strength I needed to finish the job.

We took refuge in a nearby bar called the Tree, and had a long overdue rest.

Deadshot watched me put down my glass.

There was a spark in his eyes.

I recognised that Lawton and I were very different creatures. I was a soldier. When I was weak, I rallied. A soldier of honour. Of duty. I stared at the Suicide Squad and wondered if any of those things were in their hearts.

Somehow I knew every one of them was wondering the same thing.

Flag poured himself a whiskey then held onto the glass with both hands and stared into it, swirling the amber back and forth. He took a sip. "If we don't stop the witch, it's all over. Everything."

"Oh, the ol' take over the world ploy aye?" Taylor said helping himself to a beer. All the military training in the world ain't gonna help us outta that one."

Hayes sat beside me, taking up the empty bar seat. Flag was on my other side, evidently drowning his sorrows.

"We weren't picked to succeed." Hayes said.

"You think we don't know that?" Deadshot laughed and poured himself a third bourbon. "They'll blame us for what went down here. They don't need no one knowin' the truth. We're the cover-up. The patsies. Don't forget, we're the bad guys."

"To the bad guys." Croc raised his glass. "You know, I never thought of myself as a bad guy. I just got needs that others don't always agree with."

Deadshot chugged his drink, and slammed the glass down on the bar. The bottle in front of him was almost empty. "Why ain't you drinking, Mrs. Flag?"

The others turned to look at me, assuming he was talking to me. Flag was smiling into his now empty glass like an idiot. I didn't think it was funny.

I pointed at my bullet wound. "Can't afford to right now. I want a really sharp mind going after those things we saw."

"The duller the better for me." GQ answered, taking a beer from the fridge behind the bar. "On the house." He shouted, handing me one.

I stared at him and shrugged. "Okay, one."

Spenser clapped his hands and whooped. "There she is. A woman after my own heart. Don't take that literally, Flag. Pour the big guy a Gurgles. No, make that five."

Harley turned to Diablo. He interrupted before she got a chance to guess.

"Water."

"Good idea, Honey." She replied, pouring a glass of water for him.

Deadshot was still looking at me. "I get him," pointing at Flag, then GQ. "And him, but I don't get you. Why are you even here?"

"I'm a Special Forces Operator, Deadshot, what do you think?" I sipped my beer and stared back.

Deadshot grinned. "Yeah, and what's your deal though."

"Isn't it friggin' obvious?" Hayes mumbled under his breath, swallowing the last of his vodka.

They both looked at me then. Flag frowned. Deadshot's face was empty, expressionless.

"Who cares why I'm here. The point is, we have to destroy this witch right? I don't even know why we're in here." I looked away, feeling my face flush.

Deadshot turned to Flag. "So Flag," he looked at him, expecting some kind of royal treatment. "You feeling pretty guilty about now."

"Why's that?" Flag replied nonchalantly.

Deadshot grimaced. "That witch should have been put down the second you found her."

"Yeah well, that was the plan."

"So what happened?"

Flag swallowed hard. "We were sent to extract the witch for Waller, but she was just a passenger in a human's body. We couldn't kill an innocent person, Deadshot."

"So she got away instead, trying to take over the world."

"Yeah," Flag nodded slightly, staring down at his glass again, avoiding eye contact.

"I was there, Deadshot. She was just inhabiting Dr. Moone's body. We couldn't exactly keep her strapped to a board in a drug induced coma,"

Deadshot shrugged. "Just sayin'. This whole thing could've been avoided."

"Wasn't my call, Lawton." Flag said. But he turned to look at me, eyes red rimmed. "I shouldn't have put you at risk like that, Jaz. I'm sorry."

I frowned. "What?"

He looked at me with guilt-ridden eyes. "I shouldn't have put you in charge, knowing the EAs were chasing me. Not that there's any excuse for what I left you to face. Please know that I had no idea of any of this. I feel sick, sick to my core, even now, when I can see you're safe. I am the most miserable excuse for–"

"Stop," I interrupted him. He stared at me with agonized eyes, and I tried to find the right words–the words that would free him from this imagined obligation that caused him so much pain. They were very hard words to say. I didn't know if I could get them out without breaking down.  
But I had to _try_ to do it right. I didn't want to be a source of guilt and anguish in his life. He should be happy, no matter what it cost me.

I'd really been hoping to put off this part of our last conversation. It was going to bring things to an end so much sooner.

Drawing on all my weeks of practice with trying to be normal for Flag, I kept my face smooth. "Kowalski wasn't your fault," I said. His name burned my throat a little on the way out. I could feel the ghost of the hole, waiting to rip itself wide again as soon as he disappeared.

I didn't quite see how I was going to survive it this time. "Me getting shot wasn't your fault, Perry, Carter…this has to stop now. You can't think about things that way. You can't let this… this _guilt_ … rule your life. You can't take responsibility for the things that happen to me here. None of it is your fault, it's just part of how life _is_ for me. So, if I trip in front of a bus or whatever it is next time, you have to realize that it's not your job to take the blame. Even if I had ran into that field to die, that would have been my choice, and _not your fault_. I know it's your… your nature to shoulder the blame for everything, but you really can't let that make you go to such extremes! It's very irresponsible–think of Alpha and-"I was on the edge of losing it. I stopped to take a deep breath, hoping to calm myself. I had to set him free. I had to make sure this never happened again. "So what if I died?"

He stared at me dubiously for a long moment before answering. "Don't you remember anything I told you before?"

"I remember _everything_ that you told me." Including the words that had negated all the rest.

"Jaz, you seem to be under a misapprehension." He closed his eyes, shaking his head back and forth with half a smile on his beautiful face. It wasn't a happy smile. "I thought I'd explained it clearly before. Jaz, I can't live in a world where you don't exist."

"I am…" My head swam as I looked for the appropriate word. "Confused." That worked. I couldn't make sense of what he was saying.

He stared deep into my eyes with his sincere, earnest gaze. "You got us this far. I believe we can finish the mission. But only with your help."

I froze, my muscles locking down as if for impact. The fault line in my chest rippled; the pain of it took my breath away. "You still want me in command?"

"Yes. The most absurd, ridiculous concept–as if there were any way that _I_ could exist without needing _you_!"

I was still frozen. His words were incomprehensible, because they were impossible.

"You don't believe me, do you?" he whispered, his face paler than his usual pale–I could see that even in the dim light.

"It never made sense for you to love me," I explained, my voice breaking twice. "I always knew that."

His eyes narrowed, his jaw tightened. "Jaz, you are the best leader I have found for this team besides me. You lead Alpha Dogs into Syria, and saved twenty two people that weren't supposed to be there. You did exactly what you were sent there to achieve, and well within the rules of warfare. You captured one of Afghanistan's most notorious drug lords. And you saved me from myself, and probably getting another unit killed. Why do you think I don't love you? You have outshone everyone in this entire Squad before we even got here. And I under estimated you."

"What?" Boomerang whispered from behind us.

He locked my gaze with Flag's eyes.

"I'm not going anywhere. Not without you," he added more seriously.

"Wow," Harley swooned breaking the silence.

Deadshot cleared his throat. "Okay, let me get this straight. This girl, sitting right beside you, is a badass. You're in love with her, you put her in charge thinking she won't get hurt, and she's better than you?" he paused. "Am I right?"

Flag nodded. "Yeah."

Boomerang whistled. "That explains a lot."

"She is a badass." Harley agreed.

I grimaced. "Be serious, please."

"Oh, I am," he insisted, glaring now. "Will you please try to hear what I'm telling you? Will you let me attempt to explain what you mean to me?"

He waited, studying my face as he spoke to make sure I was really listening.

"Can we not do this? It's the end of the world-"

"Before you, Jaz, my life was like a moonless night. Very dark, but there were stars–points of light and reason… And then you shot across my sky like a meteor. Suddenly everything was on fire; there was brilliancy, there was beauty. When you were in the hospital, when the meteor had fallen over the horizon, everything went black. Nothing had changed, but my eyes were blinded by the light. I couldn't see the stars anymore. And there was no more reason for anything."

I wanted to believe him. But this was _my_ life without _him_ that he was describing, not the other way around.

"Your eyes will adjust," I mumbled. "Can we just focus on fighting this thing and get the hell outta this city? Please? Everyone is watching."

He arched one perfect eyebrow. "I'm telling you this because we might not make it."

I sighed. "I believe you. Now can we not do this? Please?"

"Aw, that's so sweet, you guys," Harley continued. "Who knew Flaggy had a heart, huh?"

Hayes rolled his eyes. "Yeah, isn't it wonderful." His tone was heavy with sarcasm

"Okay, enough of this mushy sh-" I cut off, watching Diablo frown. "Show of emotion. We still have a job to do. But my question is, who's in."

Flag pulled the detonator out of his pocket. The squad panicked as he lightly tapped the screen. A moment later, all of their arming lights turned green. Then he twisted the device and broke it into pieces. "You're free to do whatever you want."

Realisation instantly clicked with Boomerang. As fast as he could, he ran out of the Tree.

Deadshot watched Harkness disappear and shook his head, but understood where Boomerang was coming from.

Every man for himself.

Flag reached into his pocket and set a thick wad of letters on the bar.

They were all addressed to Floyd Lawton. The return address on all of them said they came from Zoe Lawton. "I was going to give you these anyway, no matter what happened. Might as well do it now."

Lawton flipped through the envelopes.

"She wrote to you every day, Lawton. Every. Single. Day. The rest are waiting for you in my office."

Deadshot stared at them and crumbled. He clawed at the envelopes, unable to open and read them through his tears.

Harley was watching and reached out to grab his arm reassuringly.

I finished my drink and turned to leave, grabbing my rifle off the bar.

Deadshot grabbed me by the vest and spun me around. "I'm going with you."

The others stared at him.

"I'll get you there and you'll stop this." Deadshot continued. "And it's going to be like a chapter in the Bible. Everyone's gonna know what we did, and my girl will know her dad was…" he didn't need to finish.

Flag reached out and shook his hand, then turned to leave too.

The others were still watching. One by one they turned to each other. Harley was first to stand. "I'll come." She head to the door, but stopped and looked at the squad. "What? Got something better to do?" She grabbed her bat and leaned it against her shoulder. "Pussies."

We made our way a block south to Neon Street, Midway's nightclub district. Parties started every night at one minute before midnight and refused to shut down until just before noon the next day. That nightly ritual ended just three days ago, when the EAs appeared, when the electricity went out and the clubs went dark.

The railway station was one street south. We were prepared to high for those final yards, no matter what was sent against us.

We saw Boomer heading toward us. He glared, but fell back in line.

"I hate you guys," he said, throwing his beer can aside.

"Same here," I laughed. "Oh. And welcome back."

Flag suppressed a smile. "This is it. Ready or not."

Gripping our weapons tightly, we marched forward.

Together.

The railway station was diagonally across the street, protected behind a barricade of stacked cars and trucks.

I signalled for the Seals to guard the perimeter. They took their positions without another word.

"Something's glowing up there," Deadshot said, pointing to an other-worldly light emanating from the station windows.

"Lawton, that's more than just light. Can you feel it?" Diablo said.

"It?"

"The power. Like electricity in the air. Only stronger. It has an almost bitter smell."

"Yeah, whatever's causing that and the light inside, we need to see it." I replied.

GQ followed me. "If you're putting this up for a vote, Lieutenant Colonel, mine is a no. Least not yet."

"Any reason?" I asked.

"Our heat sensors are picking up a treasure trove of EAs. We'll be spotted the second we attempt to breach their barricade. I'm suggesting we scope it out, and don't invade until we have the full lay of the land."

"Hey, if we can't go in," Boomer interrupted, "will a visual tour do instead?"

"That would certainly help. How?" I turned around and looked at him.

Boomer held up a drone boomerang. "Bluetooth-enabled with a camera you can follow on your smart phones."

I was impressed. "Looks to me like it'll work," I said to GQ. "Besides, it's not like we have a lot of alternatives." I turned back to Harkness. "Do it."

Boomerang threw the drone, then punched up the video feed on his phone."

I watched over his shoulder as the drone silently whooshed toward the railway station roof. Boomerang controlled its pitch and arced it toward one of the shattered glass windows.

"Can you get inside?" GQ asked.

"This would be a waste of time I couldn't" Harkness snapped.

The drone hovered and scanned the window's measurements. At first the window was too small for it to fit through. It moved over to the next one, which proved the right size.

"We got us a bingo," Boomer said. "We can dot the I now."

The drone slipped through the window and glided into the station.

Flag was watching over Boomerang's too. "Can you move it over to the right? About forty-five degrees? I think I see something."

"Yeah, mate, I'm seeing it too." An image of Incubus filled the screen. He was talking to his sister.

"Our big bads," I said.

Incubus went still for just a moment, then he turned and looked at us.

Harley watched as he lifted a hand and pointed at the camera. "Holy pizza," she said. "He sees us. He knows we're watching."

Incubus made a flicking movement with his hand and a pulsing tentacle of light shot from his fingers. A moment later the video tuned static, and died

"Something tells me that's not a technical error," she added.

Boomer shook his head. "Wish it was, Looney Tunes. But no."

Flag stared at the static-covered screen as if by staring at it long and hard enough, he would make the video return. But nothing happened. "Boomer, you got another one in your coat?"

"Another big fat no, mate."

"Well, that really sucks." Harley blew a gum bubble, then it burst when it was the size of her head. "What do we do now?"

I looked at the blank screen, trying to come up with possible alternatives. "Flag, push comes to shove I have only one real idea. It might even work."

"Yeah? What?"

"The demo charge is still in the subway."

Flag shook his head. "No, I thought about that too, and I ruled it out."

I wasn't about to let it go. "Why not? There's a tunnel right under the building. I believe we can take out he big one, if we get in it's face and distract it. I can do it."

Flag was adamant. "No. The problem is you only have two second once you arm it. Enchantress could have magically transported herself away in time, but you can't. None of us can. It would be a one-way trip."

"I know," I said. "I understand, but we literally have no other choice."

"The concept is acceptable. The choice of personnel isn't. I need you with me here. If we do this you have to choose a man."

I wasn't about to let Flag dictate terms to me. "I understand, but I'm not going to ask any of my men to do something like that."

"Then do it by lottery. Give them the chance to be there hero. It doesn't have to be you."

"It means exactly that. None of them have the training I have."

"Flag, trust Jaz. I went through all the possibilities. Ultimately there's one choice who can get it done. You're looking at him." GQ stood up straight, and looked at Flag firmly.

GQ was willing to take my place?

Flag didn't want to give in. Letting him go meant he'd never see GQ alive again, but he also recognised that there was no way I would send someone else in his place. He volunteered.

Flag turned to me, and they both waited for my order.

I nodded my approval.

They embraced, and GQ went off to brief the Seals. Each one tried to change his mind, each one wanted to take his place, but he overruled them all.

The Seals the Suicide Squad prepped for their dual assaults.

Flag checked his gear. Harkness inspected each of his boomerangs, gauging them to determine the perfect aerodynamics. A nick here or cut there would throw off their balance and spell the difference because success and death.

Harley checked her magnum, aiming it like a movie detective going against the mob. Done, she twirled the gun and slipped it into its holster.

"Ready when you are, boys," she said, chuckling.

Diablo was on one knee, praying. Katana crouched, going through her daily ritual. She held her sword as if it were a baby, and whispered to it.

"What's up with her?" Boomer asked. "She one of yours, or one of ours?"

"Some things are hard to know for sure," I replied.

"True that, Mrs. Flag, but what's her story with the sword?" I mean, c'mon, mate. She's yakkin' at it like it's listening."

"The man who killed her husband used that sword," Flag replied. "His soul is trapped inside of it. That's who she's talking to."

"His soul is inside that sword? Right. You do know that makes no sense?"

I was walking past but stopped. "We got a guy with us who makes fires come out of his hands. You're sure you know the boundaries between sense and nonsense?"

Katana completed her ritual. Boomer turned away.

"Well, you know what they say about the crazy ones?" Boomer asked.

Deadshot turned to see Harley blowing more gum. "Yeah. I know."

"Huh?" Harley grinned.

I waved for everyone to quiet down. Boomer leaned in to Deadshot and whispered. "This is when we get the big rousing booyah speech? You know, we're all a team and crap?" Before Deadshot could answer, I started to speak.

"Everyone stay in line. We're bugging out now. Flag is on point, so stay behind him."

Flag headed out, I followed behind, and the others tagged along.

Boomer stared at Deadshot, confused.

"That was the big _one win for gipper_ speech?"

"One way or another, it's going to be a short fight." Lawton observed.

"Maybe she thought a short speech was all it deserved. 'Sides, we're fighting for our lives. Do we really need a speech to do our best?" Deadshot cocked his wrist magnums and followed the others out. Boomer stood for a while longer, then he shrugged and followed.

 _Everyone dies eventually._

"Pay attention, everyone," I said. "Bad as it's been, something tells me it's about to get much worse. Listen to my instructions and most of us might just survive."

"You're a real cheerleader, Mrs. Flag," Deadshot said. "Makes us all tingly inside wanting to follow your lead."

"Whatever turns you on," I smiled.

GQ and the Seals disappeared downstairs to the tunnel beneath the station, and we waved goodbye to each other. Hayes looked at me a little longer, then followed.

Flag and the others made their way inside the station.

We moved quickly past the fallen soldiers, then headed for the subway platform.

I fell behind Harley, making sure no one ankled at the last second.

She smiled at me and blew another gum bubble. "Those men really do anything they're told?"

I nodded. "If I tell them to,"

Harley grinned. "How do I get your job?"

I arched one eyebrow skeptically. "You need a clean criminal record for starters,"

"Damn." She laughed.

Deadshot walked along side Flag. "You must really love this girl-and no way you're the loving kind," he said. "No offense meant."

"I'm not. I always thought love was bullshit." Flag shot Lawton a glance. "Hey, don't look at me like I'm nuts. I'm being serious."

"yeah, I know." Deadshot said. "Just hard to believe. I mean, you know what kind of person I am, but even I found love."

"She left you."

"Yeah, there is that, But I found it. And it was mine to lose. Which I did-that's my point."

"Actually Lawton, that's _my_ point. Love's tenuous. It doesn't last. Hell, I don't think it can last. Look, I get lust, desire, mutual benefit…whatever. But actual love? I rated that with UFOs. Lots of believers, but no proof."

"Then you met Mrs. Flag." Deadshot said.

Flag nodded. "Yeah. Then I met Jaz. And uh-we're not married or anything so you can't actually call her that."

"I know," Deadshot said smiling. "I only say that because shes so much like you. Cold and heartless."

Flag chuckled.

They walked another few hundred feet in silence. Then Deadshot turned to Flag, as serious as I had ever seen him. "Well, whatever you have to do, know I got your back."

Flag was taken by surprise. The world was definitely changing.

Faster than even I could believe. Faster than I could adapt. But for once, I approved of the change.

 _Heck,_ I thought. Even while marching into Hell I realised I was actually happy for once. _Yeah, the changes keep coming. Who'd ever guessed?_

"A man who never loves gives no hostages to fortune." Flag said.

"What's that mean?" Deadshot asked.

Flag chuckled. "It means I'm the richest man in the world. All because I fell in love with a woman."

"She's not just _a_ woman, though Flag. I see your attraction there. Hold on to her. Women like that don't exist on the street." He flashed me a glance over shoulder, probably thinking I couldn't hear. I stared back with a blank face, but underneath, the butterflies were fighting against the walls of my stomach.

A sharp sting shot through my shoulder, making me wince. I stopped and grabbed my wound. I couldn't tell if it was bleeding some more from under my black shirt, but I looked up quickly to make sure no one had noticed. Harley did stop, and looked back at me in concern.

I shook my head with a serious face.

She closed her mouth and frowned before striding toward me. "You okay, G.I Jane?"

"I'm fine," I croaked. "Keep your voice down."

"Why?" She said lowly.

"I don't need Flag making a fuss. We have enough to worry about. Just keep going I'll catch up." I looked up at her authoritatively, contemplating violence if she didn't.

Harley shrugged and followed the others, I kept a close eye on her. I let out a slow breath and took a peek under my shirt. It has gushed a bit more, oily and sticky with its dank, coppery smell. I grit my teeth and pressed it firmly, hoping it would stop soon. If it continued, I could be in for septicemia. I rolled my eyes at the thought.

I should have taken some morphine from the medic, but now it was too late. Hopefully the fight wasn't too long and painful.

I took out the blood-drenched bandages except what was buried in the bullet hole, and covered it up with clean ones. _That should hold a little while,_ I thought.

I caught up with the others, and no one but Harley had noticed.

"All good back there?" She asked.

"None of your concern," I replied sharply.

"Hey, should I tell Flaggy? You don't look too good."

I grunted. "No. Stay out of it."

"Hey, you can't blame a girl for caring, can you?"

I shot her a look that said _shut up,_ but it was too late. Flag and Deadshot looked back at us, hearing Harley's over the top yelling.

At a certain level I knew had made no choice, just as I was not choosing to be unafraid. It had just happened to me, like I had passed through some barrier. I had to keep fighting, because the other guys needed me.

"Keep your mouth shut!" I mumbled, quickening my pace. I had to avoid grabbing at my shoulder, but the pain was almost unbearable.

At that moment, Harley ignored her loyalty. "Um, Mr. Flag sir, Mrs. Flag isn't looking too good." She yelled.

I sighed and let my shoulder slump. "Nothing to worry about." I lied.

Flag frowned. "Do you need to stop?"

"No!" I snapped. "Just pretend I didn't get shot at okay? I patched it up again just keep going. Get all this over with."

"Will you stop being so stubborn, lady? If you're wounded then just stay behind." Harkness growled.

I frowned at him. "This is none of your business, Aussie." I turned back to Flag. "Objective is unchanged. There's nothing I can do about it now, so why worry. Let's go."

Deadshot pushed Flag's shoulder to get him moving, for which I was grateful.

"You know for someone who pretends not to care, you do have a heart of gold." Diablo said to me quietly.

We quietly moved through a tunnel, ready for whatever the enemy brought to us. Deadshot scanned the place with his monocle. We were in the clear.

Every now and again, Flag would peek over his shoulder at me.

I noticed, the others had formed a diamond around me, making me the center. In the military, that's usually what you did to protect the asset.

We were in the clear. We reached the staircase leading up-to where the drone had showed Enchantress was waiting. I wasn't sure what we would find when we found her. I knew I would have to find a way to prevent Enchantress from ever taking over June Moone again, but it was the witch, I knew there was no alternative but to go into battle against a woman who would kill us all without a moment of regret.


	19. Chapter 19 One bullet One target

Enchantress anxiously paced the hall at the far end of the building. The septagram was behind her, like the one I'd seen in June's bathroom, mystically floating off the ground, converting the entirety of the back wall. It looked like a mechanical bonfire with rows of gears that brought to mind a hungry, clamorous grinder.

"Okay, so tell me," Harley said as quietly as she was capable of being. "Am I dreaming that thing, or does everyone else see all that trippy magic stuff? I mean, I'm off my meds, so you can't go by me."

"Hell yeah, that's real," Boomer said. "It's like I'm flashing back to my college days, only I was never that high."

"None of it is making any sense," Harley agreed. "And that's coming from me."

Deadshot turned to me. "C'mon, Miss," Lawton said as he pointed to Enchantress, swaying to the music only she coul hear. "It's your friend over there, right? Give her a big hug and tell her to stop this garbage."

I disagreed. "We need to follow the plan we already have. We draw the big one out, and then get my guys to detonate the bomb under him."

"Yeah, fine, but where is the big guy?'

Enchantress was too busy powering the machine to pay attention as we moved deeper into the room, searching for Incubus.

Then she spoke. "Colonel Flag is that you?" she said, her voice a mockery of June's.

Deadshot grabbed Harley's arm before she could do something stupid, and pulled her close to him. "Stay with me and stay quiet."

"Why are you here?" Enchantress said,even though she couldn't see us. "Is it because the soldier led you here? For Waller? But boys-and I include you too, Harley and Chapman- why do you serve those who cage you? I am your ally, and I know what you want. Exactly what you want."

Wind and white light suddenly exploded in the room.

We were lost in timeless white space, and we were overwhelmed by it.

I was surrounded by the white. I felt my arm being tugged. I looked up and saw Kowalski.

He looked down, and then glanced up at me through his long black lashes, his chocolate eyes scorching.

His eyes would always be my downfall. He'd have drowned me effortless by sight. Kowalski stared at me for a moment too long. He leaned back motionlessly against the sand, like a statue.

I was in danger of being distracted by his livid, glorious face. It was like trying to stare down a destroying angel.

His face and smooth calm of his voice was so distracting, I didn't realise we were sitting on a sunny beach, the water lapping at our feet.

Suddenly, a harsh voice broke the serentiy.

"I can't change what I did, and neither can you!"

Thw whiteness disolved, replaced by harsh reality.

"What the hell happened? Harley asked. The others all looked like they were all coming out of the same trance.

Diablo knew better, though. He had broken free on his own. He accepted the truth of what he was, and he never tried to hide from it. "It's not real!" he shouted. "No matter how good it felt, you don't want it. We shouldn't have it."

Harley crouched, her face hidden behind her hands. "Speak for yourself, Torchy. You shoulda seen my place. It coulda been the life."

"No," Diablo said. "Whatever you saw belonged to another. Before your path changed. Even if you were to change, and fully embrace it, that way is gone. You would have to build a different road." He stepped from the shadows.

"He's right. It's not real." Flag said sombrely.

The others joined Diablo. I saw Enchantress stare at us, intrigued that her illusion had been so easily pierced.

"How long have you been able to see, Fire Man?"

"My whole life," Diablo said. "Look, lady, they're with me. You can't have them. These are my people right here."

Enchantress laughed and smiled at him. "But it is our time. The sun is setting and the magic arises. The meta-humans are a sign of change, my friend."

Diablo stepped closer, not at all intimidated by her power. "I'm not your friend, I know who you are, and like me, you're not supposed to be here."

Enchantress frowned at his insolence. "Stop talking." She ordered. "This should be simple. Are we friends, or are we foes? And remember, we are not the ones who caged you."

I stared. She was the face of the enemy and there was no way we would ever stand side by side.

Deadshot scoffed. "I'm a bad guy, yeah, but lady, you want to destroy the world," he said. "You are evil."

The others stood beside him. They were in this together.

Enchantress glanced up to the window. There was a glowing light in the distance. "Brother, you were right. The pets won't turn on their masters. So go ahead. Break their necks, but try not to disturb me. The machine requires my full attention now." She turned back to finish working on her machine as Incubus appeared.

"You do as you need to, sister. I will destroy our enemies."

"You are dear, brother," she replied, and she smiled. "Have fun."

He marched to the colonade, his magic armour fanning like a cobra hood. "I've been waiting for this for so very long." His eyes glowed. A tentacle shot from his hands and slammed into the stone column, shattering it.

Flag pushed me behind him, and raised his rifle.

I hit my comm and screamed into it. "GQ. You in position? GQ, copy?"

I waited, but heard nothing.

Deadshot looked at me and shrugged. "Your plan sucks. Just saying it."

"Guys," Harley shouted. "The big kahuna's doing it again. Just letting you know."

Incubus was powering up. He prepared to fire another tendril, but then decided not to. He was powerful enough that the didn't need mystical incantations to destroy us. What he wanted now was a little physical exercise.

Enchantress stepped back and admired her machine. Giant black gears snapped into place, increasing the energy that fed the machine.

The machine opened its maw and swallowed its black smoke. Its gears kept turning and grinding and convulsing. Then, magical energy erupted from the machine and blew an outsized hole through the station roof.

"Brother, it has begun." She cried. "This world will again be ours."

Bolts of lightning crackled through the shattered roof, angled toward the ring of street debris orbiting the station. We were now in the eye of a super storm.

Enchantress's machine was a long range weapon system, powered not by electricity, but by magic that bad been forgotten a millennia ago. Magic the modern would no longer combat.

"Trig, you up?" GQ said through the comm.

"Yeah, we're inside. You in position?' I replied.

"Negative," GQ answered, "They're down here. Only a few of us guys left, I sent them out."

"Okay, but you gotta get to the southeast corner. We'll drive him to you. Make it happen."

"You got it, Trig. Take care."

"Yeah, my thoughts are with you. Hell, the thoughts of everyone here are with you." I slipped my comm back into its case. _This is happening now. If it works, it'll soon be over._ If he wanted to save the world, he didn't have any other choice. This was exactly what he had signed up for.

I was in pain. My unit was dead and nobody could bring them back. They'd never know if I tried to save the world or condemned it to its own slow, painful death. It wasn't on them. It was on me. My mother and Kowalski would never know what I did, and they'd never care-but I knew they'd want me to prove to myself that I wasn't just a hired gun.

And Diablo looked to me like he felt the same way.

Flag pointed to the corner behind Incubus. "We gotta get him in that corner, that's where the bomb will be."

"I'll do it, I'll get him there."

"Think it through." Deadshot shouted.

Diablo looked at Deadshot and nodded. "Thanks, brother, I got this. Let me show you what I really am." He stepped into the light and walked up behind Incubus. "Hey, fool. You lookin' for me? Well I'm over here."

Incubus turned to face him. "You are right, burning man," he said." Let's do this."

Diablo's arm shot out and whipped a blast of fire into Incubus's face.

Deadshot and Flag stood back, staring at Diablo.

"That the best you have?" Incubus said, shrugging it off, grinning at his opponent. His armour rippled and dispersed the heat. "You are trying to fight a god, but there is no way you can survive, let alone be victorious." Incubus suddenly lunged and slammed Diablo into the station wall.

Our most powerful warrior was downed even before he could throw the first punch.

"Well," Harley said, looking lost and frightened. "No way that went well."

Incubus turned to us, and gestured for them to come at him. He had more toys which to play, and he couldn't wait. The battle was just beginning.

More than four thousand years ago, Incubus stood side by side with his sister against vast armies of trained warriors who swore they would destroy the two gods. Those warriors are now dead, while brother and sister stood strong, and more powerful than ever.

Now, as then, Incubus had to laugh at the pitiful humans who thought they would succeed where thousands before them had failed.

We had no idea what we were fighting. Gods were meant the rule, and if he had to destroy all that challenged him to get those few who lived to serve his needs, he would.

He was enjoying watching us run like mice in a maze, somehow believing he were the dominant species on Earth.

Diablo, having regained his senses, attacked with a geyser of flame while Harley fired her guns. As soon as she had used up one mag, she slammed in another and kept up the attack. Incubus shrugged off these attacks.

Katana was ready to fight.

"Slice and dice!" Deadshot shouted to her, laughing.

Crouching next to her, Boomer launched his boomerangs at Incubus. There were two detonations as they slammed into his face and exploded.

Incubus stumbled back and roared, but quickly shook off the momentary pain and attacked again.

Flag pushed me back behind a pillar, and aimed at Incubus, but he didn't pull the trigger.

Incubus saw Boomer about to launch another explosive 'rang at him. He stepped back, breathe deeply and concentrated, forming a smoky tendril

But Katana jumped at the giant and brought her sword down hard on his arm, slicing off his hand at the wrist. He fell back as his half-formed tendril shook and disappeared, smoky wisps dissipating into the air.

He launched yet another tendril at Katana. He held out his bloodied wrist, pain etched across his face. He closed his eyes and screamed as the shattered stump of bone and flesh seemed to glow and extend, building a new forearm. Regeneration a new wrist. A new hand.

As he flexed his fingers, pleased to see he could still control them, Incubus turned to Deadshot and smiled. "The woman did that to me, but you commanded her," he roared. "So you will die first, then I will take my time and kill her, too. It will be a wonderful, agonising death. Then, when you are all dead, the rest of humanity, with no one left to fight for them, will follow." The giant lunged for Deadshot, and slammed him in the chest. Lawton helplessly skidded across the floor and crashed into a wall. Incubus stalked toward him, his hands beginning to glow again with renewed energy.

Suddenly, Harley jumped onto his back, and rode him like a bunkin' bronco. Her finger clawed into his neck as she tried to strangle him. "Have fun trying to breathe, gruesome."

He stood up and shrugged her off. Then he picked her up by her head and casually flipped her across the tracks. "I'll come back for you soon enough, little girl," he said. "I have priorities, and you are low on the list."

Boomerang tried to pull Deadshot to safety. Incubus shook his head, then grabbed the Aussie and held him high so he could look the man in his eyes.

"Do you really want to fight me before I've slaughtered Flag? If so, I will be more than happy to oblige." He tossed him off the platform, and watched him bounce onto the tracks. He turned again to Deadshot, still on the ground, weak and leaning against the station column. His face was smeared with blood, and it looked as if he'd been dead for at least a week. Weak as he was, however, he raised his arms and aimed his wrist magnums, already set to full auto.

Incubus grinned and leapt. "When are you humans ever going to learn?"

"Never," Deadshot cried. Suddenly, his emergency glocks appeared in his hands and he fired all four weapons into Incubus's face. The bullets vaporized with bright flares as they tried to penetrate his armour.

Incubus watched them disappear and again laughed at his target. "And this is why your worthless race will soon be extinct."

Sprawled on the ground, Deadshot scanned the station, searching for a place to hide until he could recover. He was looking at a maintenance door about twenty yards south. He grabbed a fallen drainpipe and pulled himself up to his feet.

Leaning against the station wall for support, Deadshot slowly took a step. Then another…and another. He cried out and fell back against the wall, took several breaths, then started again. He let go of the wall, and picked up his pace. He made it to the door, and reached to open it.

"You have to know you can't escape me," Incubus towered over him. "But I did enjoy watching your efforts." The god's hands glowed with rippling energy and he reached for Deadshot.

Then a voice came from behind the giant. "Hey, you. Over there! Leave him alone." Diablo stood tall, arms spread wide, hands open, fingers splayed. Then he floated up from the ground, levitating as if he was some kind of deity, too.

Incubus stared.

"I said, get away from him." Diablo was raging, nearly out of control. All his years of anger and pain boiled out of him and formed into a huge fiery skeleton, at least as tall as Incubus. Without another thought, he lunged for the god and slammed him away.

"They are my friends," he shouted as he whipped a jet-engine blast of fire into Incubus's face. "I will not let you harm them."

Incubus shrugged it off. His iridescent armour rippled as it dispersed Diablo's attack. He unleashed another tendril, which struck Diablo, blasting him back across the train station. But Diablo stood, surrounded by a huge skeleton of fire that formed around him.

Harley Quinn stared at the giant and laughed. "Way to go, we got us a mega Diablo!"

We all stared as Diablo lunged at Incubus again, and thrust his fiery hands into Incubus's face, exploding the false god's flesh. Again and again Diablo slammed his burning fist into Incubus.

"We're running out of time. Drive him into the corner!" I shouted. "Do it now!"

Diablo leapt at Incubus, backing him toward the corner. But the god fought back, resisting.

Harley stared at the burning giant, then rubbed her eyes to clear away what was obviously a fever dream. She opened them again, nothing had changed. Diablo and Incubus were fighting a war normal humans could never hope to understand.

"Now I get it," she said. "Why he doesn't let himself get angry."

Boomer rushed back to Deadshot's side and pulled him to safety. Lawton looked at him and laughed.

"See, if you're nice to people, they'll turn into fire skeletons and fight giant glowing man' gods."

Boomer grinned back at him. "Right. Point taken."

Showing fear, Incubus held up his arms to block Diablo's repeated attacks. His attempts to counter Diablo's blows were clumsy, showing that he had never really faced anyone who he had actually had to fight. He had always ordered others to do whatever he needed done.

Diablo kept hitting him. Again and again, burning though his armour, then digging his fingers into its metal, forcing a gap just large enough to shove his fist inside and ignite the so-called god from within.

During it all, Diablo never stopped screaming.

"Trig," My comm hashed. "Standing by, I'm in position."

Incubus howled in pain. His arms failed wildly, hammering at his assailant, desperate to keep him from forcing even more fire under his armour.

Diablo had melted its out layers and was now burning into Incubus's flesh.

"GQ's in place," I shouted. "Drive him into the corner."

Diablo allowed himself a rare smile as he shouldered Incubus toward the corner. "Our god burns, Mrs. Colonel," he said. "And I am ready." Then success lessened his rage, and his power diminished with it.

Deadshot called out to me. "D's losing steam. Now would be a good time."

"No, I need him to be directly over the bomb. We can't take the chance that hell survive. Diablo, I know you're weakening, but I need you to keep pushing. Just a few more inches, man. You can do it." I yelled.

Bellowing, Diablo again lunged for the giant. The both tumbled back, into the corner, directly over the Seal and his explosives.

"Stand by GQ, almost," I said. "Almost…"

Diablo's fires were slowly fading, but he didn't back down. Realization appeared on Incubus's face, and the god fought back furiously to escape.

"Diablo, get out of there, it's time to ankle," Flag said.

"GQ, on my order!" I bellowed into the comm.

Diablo's fire skeleton dissipated, yet he refused to let go.

"I said, get outta there," Flag shouted. "Get clear!"

"I can't let him go." Diablo was still caged in flame as the two combatants returned to their normal sizes. "I'm losing strength, man." He looked at me. "Blow the bomb. Do it now."

Harley looked to me. "He's going to die saving us?"

"Not just us. The world." I replied.

Everyone was in place. There could be no more delays. Reluctanly, I spoke into my comm. "GQ. Diablo. The world owes you both."

Time had run out.

"GQ," I said. "Now."

"Everybody down!" Flag shouted, and we ducked behind a column. Flag put his arm over my head, and I huddled close to him, bracing.

Directly below Diablo and Incubus, the platform floor erupted in a succession of massive underground explosions, geysering brick and water, obliterating the main tunnel and the other passageways connected to it. Flames crawled up the walls then hung from the tiled ceiling. The fire was everywhere.

There was a ball of fire, as Incubus's mortal form shattered into an un-countable number of pieces, like soft chunks of amber.

We were lost in the horror.

GQ was gone. The Seal had sacrificed himself, which was what we had been trained to do. GQ was a hero, and whole world would know that. But Croc and Diablo-men I once thought they were barbaric murderers-had also died. Died saving the lives of all his friends. Perhaps saving the planet itself.

Deadshot reached out and put a hand on my shoulder. "You had no choice."

"I know. It doesn't make it easier. We lost three good men."

"Three damned good men." Flag agreed, his eyes red-rimmed. GQ was his closest friend.

Deadshot nodded. "The best."

Katana saw Incubus's head lying alone and looking lost on the station floor, a faint glimmer of life somehow still sparking in his eyes. He was looking up at her, his fight not yet done.

She stared at the head, fractured and bloody, then plunged her sword into the former god. He howled, writhing, as it painfully wrenched free his soul.

The Soultaker was satifsied.

It was over.


	20. Chapter 20 The cost of war

Enchantress shuddered in pain. She felt her brother's death,a dn it hurt as nothing else ever had before. "What have you done?" she shrieked as she appeared on the platform. She pushed past the Squad, and saw her brother's body, dead and dismemebered."This can't be." She looekd up at the others, eyes red with hate. "This is a lie. You're making me see a lie."

But she knew it was her brother, and that he was dead.

Murdered by her enemies.

She whirled, raging, toward us but her legs gave out and she sank to her knees. "Brother!" she screamed.

Her shriek became hurricane winds which battered us. We watched helplessly as the powerful gale blew the weapons from our hands. Boomerangs, Magnums, Glocks, even the Soultaker disappeared into the storm.

Enchantress began to exact her revenge.

A pulse of coruscating, multi-coloured energy washed over us, and we saw the witch as a prismatic, other-dimensional vision- not at all real, but still deadly and frightening.

Deadshot shouted at her. "You're next." He screamed, but she only laughed.

"My spell is complete," she replied. "Once your armies are gone, my darkness will spread across this world, and it will be mine to rule.

Her machine pulsated, blasting wind and rain into the rail station. Dark, magic clouds surged with increasing power as the weapons fired, pulling scraps of metal from the ring into the main main column, it's lighning infusing with molten metal.

A vortex of magic clouds spread, crackling bolts of lightning launched toward their targets, destroying everything they touched.

Enchantress shrugged off the tendrils attached to her, connecting her to her machine, and she began to change, reverting to her feral self-the creature June Moone had found hidden away in that cave.

A thing of evil.

Deadshot tried to wipe the shock from his eyes.

I stared at this thing that had taken over June. I wanted to destroy the witch then and there, but I knew it wasn't time,. Not yet.

"If we can get her heart back, we got a chance." Flag said.

"Her heart?" I echoed, confused. I looked at Enchantress, and saw the green glow beneath her chest. "How?"

"So you're saying attack?" Boomer said. "We keep fighting? Without out two strongest fighters? The matchstick and the alligator?"

"Crocodile," Harley whispered under her breath. "Not alligator. Crocodile. Like his stupid name."

"Yeah," I said.

Boomer shook his head. "You know that's suicide?"

"Like Lawton said," Flag replied. "That's in our name."

"Well, when you put it that way..."

Weapons ready, the Squad spread out. Boomer held two explosive 'rangs. Katana recovered her Soultaker. Deadshot clicked off the safeties on his wrist mangnums. Flag and I loaded new magazines into our pistols.

Harley snapped her gum, grinned a big smile, and charged.

Then the Enchantress disappeared.

"Guess she's scared of us, huh?" Harley laughed, blowing another large gum bubble.

Enchantress reappeared next to Deadshot. She grabbed him by the throat then tossed him aside, into me. We tumbled back.

Katana lunged, but once again, Enchantress disappeared.

Deadshot helped me up, grimacing.

We turned, waiting.

Seconds passed.

Still nothing…

Then Flag saw her appear behind him. He whirled, firing, but the bullets went through her as if she wasn't there. She grabbed him, again by the throat, and slammed him back into the station wall. He fell to the ground moaning in pain.

Deadshot fired, but she disappeared yet again.

Five seconds passed.

Ten seconds.

Then she was back again, just inches away from Lawton, manifesting two large swords in her hands. She sliced down with them, but Lawton was already moving, sidestepping out of her path.

She fell back and pivoted, kicking Deadshot in the chest.

He spun around as she slid closer for another attack and slammed Boomer to the ground.

Suddenly Katana was behind her, the Soultaker held high above her head, ready to slam down. The Enchantress held up a hand, magically blocking the sword without even looking, then sent a bolt of fractal energy into the warrior, blasting her back.

I dashed across the debris toward Flag, sprawled on the ground, as Harley stood in Enchantress's way to him.

Harley stood, grinning happily and weilding the bat with anticipation. With barely a thought, Enchantress flicked her hands, magically throwing her aside.

Harley pulled herself back to her feet, laughed and attacked again.

I skidded to Flag's side and pulled up with one arm. He grabbed his pistol, and staggered to his feet.

Enchantress swung her sword but Harley dropped to the ground, the blade slicing the air just above her.

Flag and I shot continuously at Enchantress. She turned to meet each threat, but when she reached out to grab Boomer, Harley's bat connected with the back of her head, knocking her to her knees.

"Sorry?" Harley said.

Enchantress kicked her, sending her flying, then spun to face Flag. She bought her swords down on him, but I blocked the blades with my handgun. She looked at Flag, grinning, blew a fake kiss, and disappeared again.

The Squad was off balance. Where would she appear? Behind us? To the side? Alone? With and army of a thousand eyed EAs?

Behind Deadshot. Ready to slice off his head.

Boomer threw his 'rangs, knocking her sword from her hands. She turned toward him and manifested two more blades.

"Not nearly enough to take me out, Aussie." She said. "So c'mon. Let's end this here and now."

Enchantress looked at the septagram, its machine fueled with a mystical energy. Giving her more power. The machine itself was spinning faster, as well, thundering with ferocious energies. We could not survive.

A storm materialised. Rain blew sideways with unnatural intensity. The machine's gears ground with staggering torque. Whatever we came up with now, it was too late.

The sky overhead turned black, punctuated by flashes of lightning that allowed the world to witness her glory.

As Enchantress revelled in her own wonderment, she sensed Katana behind her, ready to slice down on her. Barely recognising the human's existence, she simply waved the sword away, flinging it out of Katana's hand.

Then she turned back to Boomerang, and threw a bolt at him.

He ducked and spun, throwing two explosive 'rangs at her. They detonated and she fell back. He threw another 'rang, but Enchantress waved her hand and it harmlessly exploded in mid-air. She grabbed him and pushed him to the ground, then raised her sword high.

"Your sword girl intended to cut me in half," she hissed. "Let's first try that on you." She started to bring down her sword, when her arm was suddenly grabbed by a powerful, scaly hand.

Croc. He looked down on her, his eyes glistening. His mouth twisted into a grim sneer,

"You're dead," she cried.

"I got better."

He snapped his arm and sent her hurtling toward the station wall. She disappeared just before hitting it.

"Hey," Harley called out. "You a ghost 'gator or the real thing?"

"Not a ghost, Quinn-and still not an alligator."

"That's your problem, not mine" she replied. "But welcome back an' all that crap."

"You missed me?"

"If you mean I missed having a monster to wise off to, yeah."

"Yeah, I missed you too, punky." He looked around him. "The witch is gone. Now what, Mrs. Flag?"

 _Why did they keep calling me that?_ I thought, irritated. "She has a nasty way of showing up when you least expect it. Keep on the alert."

"I smashed her once. Next time I'll rip her in half." Croc said.

Harley laughed. "That I gotta see. Hell, I'll pay good money for a front row seat."

"You're gonna have your chance, mates," Boomer shouted. "Behind you."

Suddenly, she was on the platform, crouching in the light. Her machine was behind her, spewing water and wind. The Squad readied their weapons.

"On my command," I said. "We're not taking any prisoners."

But then Harley stepped in front of them. "Hey. C'mon guys. Knock it off. I mean, what are we doing? Aren't we supposed to be heroes or something? You're talking cold-blooded murder."

"Out of our way, Quinn," Flag shouted. "She intends to destroy the world."

Harley glared at Flag as if he were speaking Martian. "Oh, jeez. Who cares about the world? What's the world ever done for us, anyway? It hates us. Hell, you hate us, too." She turned toward Enchantress and walked over to her. "I lost my Puddin'. You got magic powers, right? Can you bring him back to me?"

Enchantress smiled. "I can, my dear. Anything you want."

She was giving up, and giving in to the enemy. She was giving up on the world. On us, the Squad. I watched in terror as Harley stood a few steps forward.

Everything we had fought for was about to be lost. Forever.

Harley paused. Katana's sword was lying on the platform by her feet. She leaned over and picked it up. "Promise?"

"Yes, child." Enchantress said. "But now, prove you loyalty to me. The sword. Bring it to me."

Harley looked back and saw us staring at her.

"Quinn, c'mon. You can't do this." Deadshot said.

"Quinn!" Flag shouted.

Enchantress held out her hand. "Give it to me. Then you need only bow to me and swear subservience. If you do I will give you everything you have ever wanted."

"That sounds nice," Harley said.

"Don't do it, girl!" Croc growled. "You know this is wrong."

"Yeah." She turned back for a moment and gave a defeated smile. "But she'll bring my Puddin' back to me." Harley leaned over, bowing. "I like what you're sellin' lady," Harley said as she looked up. "But there's one, tiny problem." She held Katana's sword firmly in hand.

Harley grinned. "You messed with my friends." In a single, swift movement, Harley swung the sword across Enchantress's chest, slicing her open, exposing her heart. Then she made a face as she thrust her hand into the cavity, grabbed the pulsating organ, ripped it out, then looked at the bloody mass in her hand. "God, that was like the weirdest shit I've ever done," she said. "And I've done some really weird stuff." Harley turned to Flag and gave him a wink as Enchantress howled in pain.

"Her heart's out!" I said. "We can end this." I reached into Flag's pack and removed a limpet mine. "Croc!" I called. "Take it!" I tossed the mine to Croc, who threw it toward the machine's grinding maw. At the same time, Harley tossed her magnum to Deadshot. "Hey, man. I got only one shot left. So you better do that voodoo that you do so well."

Deadshot grabbed the gun and cocked the hammer.

One bullet.

One target.

As the bomb arced toward its target, he fired the gun, and the bullet slammed directly into the explosive.

It detonated.

Abruptly, the wind revered itself, and sucked up everything and anything that hadn't been battened down. Piles of rubble, of debris, disappeared into the dark maw, ripping through the ring, shredding the machine until it could no longer contain all that it greedily absorbed.

I was sucked out of Flag's arms, and though I tried to gasp at him, I was flung into a pillar close to Enchantress. Over the noise of the chaos, I tried to tell everyone to take cover.

My shoulder crunched and a searing hot pain covered my entire torso as I hit the ground.

The machine imploded, leaving behind a great, glowing cloud to mark that it had ever been there at all.

Fire and smoke rippled through the train station, slamming into Enchantress. She cried out as she was caught in the blast. She tried to conjure an enchantment to protect herself, but it was already too late. She was surrounded by an eruption of light and magic.

All her power, her strength, her magical energy, was gone.

It was over.

Deadshot stared at the machine he'd helped destroy rippled into non-existence. It was gone, I knew. Because of him.

Flag ran up, before I could get to my feet, and scooped me off the floor. It hurt like hell. "We did it," he said. I winced, and felt dizzy, like I had gotten up too fast.

"What about her?" Harley said. She stood next to Enchantress, who was lying bent on the ground, weak and fragile. "You mind giving me five minutes alone with her and my bat?"

"Watch it, Quinn." Deadshot warned. "She may do more of that witch crap."

"No," Enchantress lifted her chin to give Katana a clear shot to her throat. "Help me join my brother."

Harley gestured to her, grinning. "There you go, K. Ready to add another soul to your collection? You should number them all. You know. Collectible kills. They'll be worth a lot more that way."

Katana cocked her sword over her shoulder, ready to bring it down on my command.

"Don't." I said, as Flag put me down gently. I hobbled over to Katana, holding out my open hand. "You still have her heart,"

Harley looked at it, smiled, and gave it to me. I passed it to Flag, and looked back at Enchantress. Suddenly, she was frightened.

"Listen to me," she said to Harley. "The soldier and his master will only put you back in cages-but I will set you free."

"June, please." I was no longer talking to the witch, but the woman inside. "Hear me. Hear my voice. Send the witch away."

"I am one of you," she pleaded. "Return my heart to me and I will give you anything you ask for. What can the soldier give you besides a long incarceration?"

"June, I don't want to do this. Please." Flag murmured.

The others stared at Flag.

"It's okay, man." Deadshot said. "Do what you have to do."

Colonel Rick Flag looked at the heart for a long time. He had no choice. He only hoped June, wherever she was, would understand. He stared at the heart, grey and desiccated, then tightened his grip and crushed it.

Enchantress twisted in pain, jerked from side to side. Her body warped and her flesh reformed. Arms became legs, and legs arms.

She looked at Flag and spoke only one word. "Enchantress."

Then she lay limp.

Flag stared at the corpse, then looked back at me. His face went pale as my legs gave way beneath me. He fell to the ground and grabbed me before I slammed into the hard floor.

The others stood in silence, staring at the now-empty train station. The ceiling had collapsed and they could see daylight outside.

"Well, that was real," Deadshot said. "Guess it's time to split. I got business in Gotham City."

Croc looked back at the others and shrugged. "And if y'all don't mind, I got a sewer to crawl back into.

Flag reached down to yank me up into his arms, and I watched as the others started to walk off.

Flag turned away from them and paced swiftly through the debris towards the staircase. I didn't say anything as the dark closed around us. I was pouting, uncomfortable in Rick's arms. It felt too intimate to me - surely he didn't need to hold me _quite_ so tightly.

Boomer gave the others a salute and started to leave when they saw Waller step up in front of them, blocking the only way out.

"How are you not dead?" Deadshot asked, confused.

"It's over?" she asked.

"Yeah." Flag said. He looked at the Suicide Squad. Harley, Deadshot, Croc and Boomer. Katana too. They were scorched, battered and bloody-emotional and physical wrecks. They were a team. They'd escaped the jaws of hell, and they were bound together.

"What now?" he asked Waller.

She looked at the group, as if trying to decide.

"Yes, you're right." She said to Flag, and she smiled as she held up the detonator. "Now what?"

"Aw c'mon." Deadshot said.

Harley folded her arms over her chest. "Yeah, a thank you wold be nice."

"Thank you." Waller said.

"Wait. No. That's it?" Deadshot stepped in front of her and stuck his face in hers. "We get nothing out of it? After all this?"

"Tell you what," she responded. "Any requests? What can I do for you? You cant run, but I can give you each one thing. Think hard. What do you want? What do you really want? Besides ten years off your sentence."

"That's not enough," Deadshot said. "I wanna see my daughter."

"Okay. Any other requests?"

"An espresso machine?" Harley said.

Croc shrugged. "B.E.T," he said.

I wasn't sure if he meant he wanted the entire television network, or a subscription to cable TV-then I decided it wasn't my problem.

Waller turned to Harkness and waited for his smart-ass request.

Boomerang shook his head. "Ten years off a triple life sentence? Not even close. Darlin', I wanna walk outta here a free man, or you're gonna see what I can really do."

Waller looked at him for a long time.

Flag continued to carry me outside, while Harley took a 'Suicide Selfie'

She said she wanted to remember us for the rest of her life, but I would be more than happy for forget.

The sun began to shine through the clouds, beaming its brilliant light on us. I couldn't even begin to describe how good it felt to see the sun again.

Waller walked gingerly behind us, being careful not to trip over any debris.

We were greeted by cheering from the surviving Seals- Taylor, Hayes, and Craig.

Flag's face was obvious that he was disappointed GQ wasn't one of them.

The war was won, despite many sacrifices being made.

I pushed in number for the tactical team. "This is Alpha Two, come in,"

The pathless way Flag took began to climb more and more steeply, but it didn't slow him down. He leapt easily from rock to rock, not seeming to need his hands at all. His perfect balance reminded me of a mountain goat.

"Copy Alpha Two,"

"We need exfil, there's too much debris around the target, so we will back track to the Federal Building."

"Roger that," it hashed and I put it back in its pouch.

Flag grunted. "Alpha Two now?"

I nodded, and cringed at the pain in my shoulder. "You're in charge, Colonel. I did my job."

He smiled. I didn't like having this conversation under the present conditions - with his too-warm arms wrapped tightly around me and nothing at all I could do about it.

"A smart person looks at all sides of a decision."

"I have," I retorted.

"If you haven't thought at all about our . . . er, conversation the last time I came over, then that's not true."

"That _conversation_ isn't relevant to my decision."

"Some people will go to any lengths to delude themselves." Then he muttered something unintelligible.

"Look, you gave me the job to get us to the train station. Then, I carried on and gave orders to get the job done. And it's done, so the floor is yours. Take the credit if you want." My head lobbed against his shoulder-I couldn't hold it up anymore. My vision began to blur.

It was quiet then for a while; there was just the sound of his measured breathing and the chatter from the Squad behind us. But even Waller didn't say anything.

Flag pulled me in tighter, so that my face was closer to his chest.

"I'm going to rest now." I mumbled.

The panicky edge to my voice made him slow down over the debris mountains. "What's wrong?"

He stared at me for a minute, slowing to a walk, the amusement draining from his face. His eyes narrowed, turned dark in the shadow of his brows. His breathing, so regular as he ran, started to accelerate. Slowly, he leaned his face closer to mine.

I stared him down, knowing exactly what he was trying to do. "Nothing…" I tried to protest, but I couldn't resist the darkness that enveloped me.

"You look terrible." I said to Taylor, who was a frequent visitor to my room.

He mumbled something but grinned. "Yeah well, I been to hell an' back. You look no better,"

I scoffed. "I got shot. You didn't."

He sniggered. "Yeah," He looked tired, but reasonably unscathed. With Flag and I in the hospital wing at the base, Taylor was left to deal with the absence of our fallen team mates. I knew how he felt.

"When you gettin' out? It's dead quiet in the barracks." His brown eyes pierced mine. "I don't wanna be babysittin' what's left of Alpha Dogs. That's above my pay grade."

I laughed. "You don't need to worry about that. Why isn't Flag out yet?"

"Broken ribs," Hayes added, walking in the door. He looked almost apologetic, eyeing up my arm propped up in a sling, and no doubt my many bruises. "He will be in longer than you."

The wind knocked out of me and I frowned. "As soon as I'm squared away, it'll be light duties only. I can't carry a weapon."

"Didn't stop you before," Hayes accused.

"I know, but what Brass says goes."

Taylor grinned. "You know Flag won't let you back out there. Not if he can help it." Taylor said lowly.

I rolled my eyes. "What he says and what Brass says is different. Flag is on sabbatical, so his word don't count."

Hayes grinned. "I too, like to live dangerously."

Taylor and I laughed.

"Just don't say anything." I said.

Hayes and Taylor looked at each other dubiously. "We were hoping you would be the one to keep it on the low." Taylor said.

I nodded. "Not a problem boys. Leave it with me." I swung my legs over the side of the bed. It had been close to a week in that bed, with next to little memory of what happened on the chopper ride home. My guesses were Waller had been doing damage control, threw the convicts back into their holes and taken the credit. I didn't care too much for the aftermath-as long as the world wasn't taken over by some crazy supernatural creature.

"Trig," Taylor said, snapping me out of my stupor.

I looked up. "Huh?"

"Flag has been asking for you. You should go visit or he will crawl out of bed himself. Room One –oh-three."

Hayes clearly resented the suggestion. His jaw slacked as he looked away, hiding the protest on his face.

"I will. Just help me up."

Hayes was the first one to grab my hand as I pulled myself off the bed, my feet hitting the cold floor. "Nice dress," he chuckled.

"Shut up." I gazed down at he hospital gown in disgust. "Thanks for coming guys. I'll catch up with you later."

Taylor gave me a tight smile and left, as though he were in a hurry to leave the cripple.

Hayes sighed and smiled sweetly before letting my hand go. "I'm here for you need anything, okay Trig?"

"I'll be fine." I reassured.

He left slowly and quietly, taking one last look at me before closing the door.

It was an awful struggle to get dressed, only a pair of track pants and a black hoodie.

I struggled with the arm, but I finally got there. My heart pounded at the thought of finally seeing Flag. How badly was he hurt? He didn't let on any broken ribs at the train station.

I wandered down the hall slowly, making my way to room one-oh-three.

The blinds were down in the window, but I stood at the door and stared at the patient name. _Richard Flag Jnr_. My breath shuddered from my lungs as I stared, bracing myself for severe injuries. _Broken ribs… was that the worst?_ _Did anything happen after I passed out?_

I opened the door slowly, and peeked inside.

Flag was lying there, bruised but peaceful.

All the while I studied him, his face was perfectly composed, a carving of a God.

I thought I'd known his face better than my own, but the air hitched in my throat as I caught sight of faded bruises over his face.

I continued to stare at Flag's face, motionless again. I moved slowly around the bed—each step taking a second, each step flowing sinuously like river water weaving over smooth stones—my hand outstretched to touch the end of the bed.

His eyes were closed, but his head snapped up when I stood beside him.

"Hey," he cooed.

"Hey," I replied, mimicking his tone. "You look terrible."

Bandages were wrapped around his torso, but he tried to cover it with the blanket. "It looks worse than it is," he reassured me. "Come here."

I sat on the chair beside the bed.

"Look at you, though. Jaz, Warrior Princess." He chuckled.

I could not answer immediately, lost as I was in the velvet folds of his voice. It was the most perfect symphony, a symphony in one instrument, an instrument more profound than any created by man. . . .

"Rick?" I asked in a low, calming tone, but the worry in my voice layered his name with tension. "I'm so sorry…"

"What?" He winced as he tried to put one elbow behind him, to sit up. "It's not your fault, I signed a contract, remember."

"No-not that." I shook my head.

Hi face fell calm, motionless. "What then?"

"You lost GQ." I looked down at my hands guiltily. "It should have been me.

"Don't go dragging this up. GQ made the choice." Did Flag's blanket of assurance cover all of that? Or was he just trying to calm me? "I just want you to know," he looked at me with his soldierly eyes. "I'm gonna be there for you now. 24-7, 365."

"I'm not worried about me, Flag, I'm worried about you. You lost more than I did this time."

He fell silent and just stared at me. "I'm okay." He croaked.

"Really?" I arched one eyebrow at him. "Why don't I believe you? After all you told me about your unit and the Jihads? You lost your best friend, Rick, and I know what that feels like."

His eyes trailed away from mine, and he sighed. "Look, I know I'm an asshole sometimes,"

"Sometimes?" I laughed. "Your men died, and so did you." I frowned. "You can't pretend. And now you're hiding in here, away from the rest of our team because of GQ. I know you're not disabled under there."

He looked back at me, a little shocked.

"GQ and the others had a reason to die. It wasn't for nothing." I added.

"You're the only one who sees through the bullshit," he chuckled.

"This isn't funny. Go home, see your mother. It worked for you last time."

Flag shook his head. "We're down three men. Bravo Team has been completely wiped out."

"All more reasons to get some R&R." I insisted.

"Only if you come with me."

I looked away, out the dark window, trying to control the panic before it gave me away. "Rick, please be serious."

"I am one hundred percent serious." He gazed at me with no hint of humour in his face.

"Oh, c'mon," I said, an edge of hysteria in my voice. "We hardly know each other, and you want me to meet your mother?" I thought about how much I wanted this. Better to keep a poker face, I decided, and not let him know how _very_ much that was. It would give me more leverage.

He shrugged. "Could be good for both of us."

I sighed reservedly. "Whatever you want, Colonel."

"Great. I should be out of here soon anyway." He cleared his throat. "I guess Alpha Team can go on annual leave as well."

"Yeah, leave it to me."

Flag leaned back down, resting his head on the pillow. "I can't wait."

I gave him a sly smile and left as quickly as I could, and as soon as I was out of his sight, I leaned against the wall and took a deep breath.


	21. Chapter 21 Danger in Iran

FOUR WEEKS LATER

She was terrifying.

Her delicate, tattooed skin was smudged from battle. Her high cheek bones could have cut glass. Her pale, pink lips were high and severe, yet somehow completely sensual while still immobile.

She had a long, graceful neck which formed into soft rounded shoulders.

Her curtain of long, dark hair cascaded past the feminine nape of her neck and down her back.

Her frame was somewhat short but thin and fit, lean like a runner and delicate as a child. But somehow even so small, beautiful, and scantily dressed: she still looked evil.

As we stared into each other's eyes I took in how unnatural and horrifyingly familiar her golden-red eyes were. How stoic her expression was and how much darkness held towards me.

It only took a couple moments, which seemed like an eternity, before her gaze darted quickly to the side. As if she were following the gust of wind which ratted my hair -and billowed her clothes but not her mane of perfection- she raised her right hand and left it there invitingly.

There was not even a small part of me that wanted to take hold of her hand, no part of me wanted to move unless it was to run away from this villain.

Suddenly, the most beautiful man in my world entered my peripheral.

He took slow, cautious and yet deliberate steps forward as if he were testing the ground to make sure it wouldn't implode from under him.

I was about to scream and warn him of the danger that she seemed to be wreaking of, but for some reason I couldn't move.

It was as if my body would not allow me to show weakness to this demon.

Because that's what she was, some sort of demon.

Only a demon could make me feel immobile like this.

As if my pride was so hurt by her presence to begin with that if I paid her any heed, I may as well be giving my honour to her.

She was a monster.

Something told me she could - and just may - murder me effortlessly.

My first thought, as I watched the two figures getting closer and closer, was that he was trying to protect me. But as he drew closer, with astonished eyes, I realized there was something missing.

Something wasn't happening that should have been.

I was expecting some sort of reaction, some sort of obvious spectacle of him getting this thing away from me.

He stepped up to the point he was barely three feet away from the creature, before in a sudden movement...

Excruciating pain coursed through me, soon followed by fear, before I rested in shock. This creature, this dangerous, vile, murderous creature had killed Rick Flag.

Her eyes were closed but the smile tugging on her lips was mocking each bone in my body as I tried to control myself.

For I knew who this was, though I couldn't bring myself to think her name.

I knew why she scared me and why she was here. She was here to take Rick from me. I woke up abruptly, sitting bolt upright in the seat as my whole body shook with fear. It was just a dream.

I told myself, but it didn't feel like a dream. The colours had not been too vivid, nor had the sounds been too surreal. There had been nothing strange or abnormal about the dream at all...save maybe the colour of the woman's eyes. That colour of blood that had hardened and spoiled, looking as if it were poisoned with scrutiny.

Hayes and Taylor were waiting at the Alpha Dogs common room lounge, which seemed eerily empty.

"Okay, boys, we're talking business." Taylor said, his face serious. "We need to fill four spots."

I nodded. "Yeah," I rubbed my eyes and tried to shake the images of Enchantress from my mind. "We can do with three? The smaller the better." I replied.

Hayes glared at me from across the table. "Are you serious?"

"Well, yeah. As long as we have a team leader, a sniper, an intelligence officer, communications and weapons tech, a combat medic and a demo guy, someone who can speak Arabic, then what more do we need?"

Flag grunted. "We don't need more than that. Eight is the maximum. If we can get eight, we go for eight."

I shrugged. "Okay, just trying to keep it simple, that's all." I took a large bite from an apple on the table.

Taylor licked his lips and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms across his thick chest. "Green Team?"

I shook my head. "Craig is the only Seal outside of Alpha and Charlie left. We should take him. And some other DEVGRU guys."

"We can't split up the teams, Jaz." Hayes said angrily.

"Just listen," I replied. "This is Alpha Dog,s the best Special Forces group I the world right? So we need the best of the best. Green Team is limited with experience."

"How did you get here, then?" Hayes mumbled.

"Oh, come on. Charlie and Delta guys are clumsy. Take Echo Team for example. Dudes walked into the wrong door and got themselves blown up." Taylor said.

"What do you propose then, All-Mighty-Evil -One?" I chuckled.

Taylor sighed. "Green Team."

I rolled my eyes. "What."

"They're fresh out of training, they're keen to get out there. Their skills need a little tuning up, but experience will get that sorted out."

"So you're saying, take the Green Teams and train the Alpha Dog way." Flag said, more than asked.

My eyebrows shot up. "That way, they don't end up bringing the DEVGRU bad habits,"

Taylor clapped. "Exactly my point, Jaz, thank you."

Hayes sighed. "Okay, say we take Craig. That leaves three more."

"So now we scout," Flag grabbed my arm as he got up from the table. "Let's go."

"Wait, why now?" Hayes frowned.

Flag glared at him intensly. "We don't have time to wait for graduations, Hayes. We could be sent out at any minute, you wanna go four men short?"

"No," Hayes grunted.

I chuckled.

We stood at the obstacle course, watching the new intake of Tier One trainees. They were only ten months in with one month of training to go, but a few of them looked promising. No females made it though the half-way point, which disappointed me.

As their muscular bodies were launched at the climbing ropes, I watched intently as one man helped the others, before continuing to beat the rest. A selfless move, I thought.

"Any of these guys have experience?" I asked Flag, who gripped the clipboard.

"Mike Dalton, Amir Al-Raisani, Adam McGuire, Brock Ryan and Bejamin Sawyer. Take your pick." Flag stood with with the clipboard behind his back, and chest out.

I looked at the men, not knowing who was who. "Okay, so we have Brian Craig already, and only three more? You read the dossiers, Flag, who do you have eyes on?"

"Amir Al Raisani. He's a tech guy, knows his comms. Plus, he speaks fluent Arabic, and he looks like he could be from the middle east."

I looked at the bearded man weilding a paint ball gun, blasting shots at the others, and getting hit himself. I grunted my disapproval.

"Mike Dalton, three tours in Afghanistan as a scout sniper." Flag pointed to the bearded blond with short hair, he was crawling under the barbed wires, trying to signal another man to keep his head down. I nodded slowly.

"This guy has a long list just like yours," he winked at me. "Advanced driving skills, NSWCFC certified, he has his 18D, and Breacher certified. Adam McGuire has advanced Close Quarter Combat skills, Advanced Air Operations…"

"Oh come on," I complained.

Flag took in a deep breath and faced the Sargeant leading the Green Team. "Line 'em up."

The Sargeant yelled at the men. "Attention!"

The immediately stopped what they were doing and saluted us. One was stuck at the top of the climbing wall, teetering carefully while he saluted crisply.

Flag stood forward. "At ease,"

The men relaxed, but still stood straight. The one with the blonde hair and beard looked at me strangely.

"Take the floor, Lieutenant Colonel Chapman," Flag stood aside, and waited for me to go forward.

I grabbed the clipboard from behind his back.

Taylor huffed impatently.

"Amir Al Raisani, Adam McGuire, Mike Dalton." I shouted. I turned away as the men scrambled to join us. "We better hope they don't fail. Hayes, get Brian Craig out here. We need to give them a crash course the Alpha Dog way."

Flag leaned in. "You're the boss while I'm on leave, right?"

I nodded. "Taylor doesn't have leadership in him, you know that."

"Agreed. But if any of these clowns give you any trouble…"

"I can handle it. Just get them trained up." I stared at the men in front of me. "Welcome to Alpha Dogs. You will under-go a crash course to get up to speed. As of now, you are members of this team. Any questions?"

The blonde one, named Dalton lifted his chin arrogantly. "You're team leader?"

I folded my arms. "Yes. Problem?"

He shook his head and glanced at Flag. "No ma'am."

Taylor chuckled.

"Do I look like a ma'am?"

Dalton looked shocked. "No ma'am-I mean, no… sir?"

Taylor laughed and Flag shook his head.

"Just call her LTC or Trig. No need to make it awkward." Taylor grinned.

"Sorry, LTC." Dalton said.

At that moment, a shrill ping interrupted. I looked at Flag to take the reins as I took the phone from my pocket. Taylor got the same alert, the anonymous _999999_.

I looked back at Flag, and he threw me a panicked face. I gave him a tight smile, and left with Taylor close at my heels.

TEHRAN, IRAN

"Well, this is impressive," Hayes was reading the paper, and mumbled under his breath. "I never got invited."

I rolled my eyes at him, though he was too busy reading the paper. "You didn't miss anything."

"This will be a one-way conversation, as I am meeting with Brass. So I won't be able to answer any questions until you're on the ground." Blackburn said into comms.

Taylor and I exchanged uneasy glaces- our briefs were always in the situation room before being deployed. Something big was up.

"Alpha, stand by," Nicole said, and we waited.

Several minutes passed, and we watched a screen in Hayes's hands. A photo of a middle-eastern man in a suit came up.

"I'm glad you could all make it. Shall we run it?" Blackburn finally said.

"Let's start with your target." Nicole said. "Fahim Jarif. This is the man responsible for the bombings in Britain, killing four of our operators, twenty one civilians and injuring seven. The majority of Jarif's time is spent here, at the luxury penthouse in the Palace Hotel. The place is a fortress. Takes most of his meetings there. That's what makes him so untouchable. On the rare occasion that he does go out, his security is handled by handpicked Iranian Special Forces headed by Qassem Javad. Qassem is careful. Jarif himself is paranoid. So, if you spook him, you lose him. The tea house for Jarif's meeting today is here, right in the heart of the city. Now, we don't know who Jarif is meeting with, but we do know his usual table and his usual seat."

The image changed to a satellite view of the building. "As you can see from the map and the photographs taken by Mr. Larijani, this apartment affords a direct line of sight to Jarif's chair. The shot's about six fifty yards."

"What about the windows in the tea house?" Craig asked.

"They will be open. And if they are closed for some reason, the glass is only 5/16 of an inch thick."

"We can handle that." Blackburn added.

Nicole sighed. "At T plus sixty minutes, Chapman and Hayes should be at the airport. Craig will be on the train to Istanbul. Taylor and Thibault, will go back to the Koswar Hotel and wait for Hossein to take them out by land. That puts total running time on target at one eighty seven minutes." She sighed heavily. "Are there any questions?"

"This is Iran we're talking about." Blackburn said. "There are Revolutionary Guards on every street, this is a government that has been burning our flag since 1979. If you get captured, you will not be recognized by the American Government. You will be on your own."

"So I ask again, are there any questions?" Nicole repeated. Silence followed. "Good. Welcome aboard, newbies. Don't forget to stick to your orders. Good luck."

There were no issues getting through airport security with our fabricated passports and fake identities, Hayes wore a snood and pair of glasses, and I wore the traditional hijab. The guards didn't even bat an eye at us. So, we continued through the airport, and taxi to the hotel, our meeting spot.

"Everybody else here?" Hayes said, dumping his bag on the floor as I shut the door behind me.

"See for yourself," Thibault said.

I smiled at Taylor, who had donned a fancy pressed suit, and Thibault was the same. The best disguises yet.

"Hey, how was the honeymoon, you two?" Thibault laughed.

"Eh, ask me in a couple of hours." I replied.

Hayes scoffed. "We're barely out of the airport, and she had her ring off."

"Ooh." Thibault hooted with amusement.

"Is it too late to get an annulment?" Hayes laughed.

I scrunched up my nose. "Did I hurt your feelings?"

Hayes chuckled. "What about you guys? Any hiccups?"

"Well, our customs official couldn't believe we were actually related." Taylor stated, a sly smirk on his face.

Thibault chuckled. "I think his exact words were, ' _I guess you lost the genetic lottery_ '."

"Don't look at me, man." Taylor looked at Thibault.

"I didn't say it." Thibault replied, fighting back a smile. "I was thinking it, but I didn't say it."

There was a mild laughter as we waited for our green light.

"Alpha, this is Tac. LTC, you ready?" Nicole said into our earpieces.

"Yeah. Go ahead." I replied.

"Hayes and Chapman, we need you at the hotel overlooking the tea house. Thibault and Taylor, inside. Craig in the car outside. Any questions?"

"Yeah, I have one," Taylor said. "Do I really look like I could be Thibault's brother?"

"Oh dear god," I groaned. "Copy, Tac." I said. "Okay, it's go time. Start the clock."

"Time is mark one. Jarif will be leaving the penthouse in five minutes." Nicole said.

A man walked into the room. He was tall with greyed hair. "Ah, Taylor, so good to see you!"

"Hassan," They shook hands. "Thank you for allowing us to use your place,"

"Ah, not a problem." Hassan spoke with an Iranian accent. He looked around at our team as we grabbed our gear. He looked at Taylor curiously and turned away from me suddenly. "You work with women now?"

Taylor chuckled. "I work with whoever gets the job done. Okay? I never took you for a chauvinist."

"Not a chauvinist. Just a man who lost his daughter to these animals, and I know what they would do to her."

"I understand that, but I'll tell you this. They need to be worried about what she can do to them."

I stared at Hassan.

Hassan grinned. "Okay."

Hayes and I made ourselves comfortable on the third floor of a building being developed, which meant no one was around to see us even there.

I could see Taylor and Thibault inside, not far from the seat Jarif was going to take. I set up my rifle and waited for Hayes's instructions.

"All right, we got eyes on the vehicle," I said through the comm.

"Alpha two set." Taylor said.

"Alpha three set." Craig added.

"All right everybody, look sharp." I told them.

"And there's Jarif." Hayes stated. Silence. "Jarif's on the move."

"Acknowledged." I slurred.

"Copy." Craig said.

Silence.

"We just made a right onto Valiasr Street. Guess that puts us about five blocks out." I said.

"Jarif's men will pull out and deploy. Craig, make sure you're out of that ring, okay? Two blocks minimum." Nicole replied.

"Yeah, roger that." I replied. "We're slowing now. Craig should have eyes on that vehicle any second."

"All right Craig, you him? Craig do you have him?" Nicole asked.

Silence.

I aimed my rifle directly at Jarif's seat, waiting anxiously. I wasn't able to see that entrance of the tea house from my position.

"Vehicle's in sight," Craig said finally.

I breathed.

"Positive contact on Jarif."

Hayes looked through his binoculars. "Your range is six forty two. Your hold is two minutes left. Two minutes left. Two minutes left."

I adjusted the rifle.

"He's inside," Craig confirmed.

I leaned my cheek against the butt of my rifle and closed my eyes while I tried to slow my breathing. A sudden breath would move my aim, and I would miss.

"He's heading to his table." Hayes said.

"Two minutes left. Wind unchanged." Hayes said lowly.

I opened my eyes.

Silence.

"Hold on. Some party official just recognised him. Stand by." Taylor said.

Time was running out.

"He's asking for some favour."

"Alright, nothing changes," I said firmly. "Alright? No reason to lose our cool. He sits down he's never getting back up again."

Thibault breathed. "Looks like Qassem is finally doing his job."

"We're clear." Taylor stated.

Jarif was standing right beside his table, but I couldn't see his neck or head. My finger was on the trigger, waiting.

"One more step," I mumbled.

"Your hold is two minutes left." Hayes said. "Two minutes left. Two minutes left. Two minutes left."

"All clear."

"Jarif is leaving."

I grit my teeth. "Come on!"

"Jaz, abort. I repeat, abort." Nicole said quickly. "Proceed with exfil plan Alpha."

"Okay, Tac, stand by. Everybody has got to let me know what's happening right now." I said angrily.

"I don't know. Something spooked him." Craig replied. "He's leaving, and we're getting ready to follow."

I grunted. "Negative. Negative, he's already paranoid as it is. I don't want anyone risking a life when we don't have a chance."

"Chapman, this mission is officially aborted. The clock is ticking on your exfil." Nicole replied.

"I'm not gonna lie, Trig. This one really hurts." Hayes added.

"Trig, we never figured out who Jarif was supposed to meet, right?" Thibault asked.

"Affirmative. Why?"

"Because I think I'm looking at her right now." Thibault answered.

I frowned. "Men like Jarif don't do business with women."

"Unless she's a courier for a man." Hayes added.

"Chapman, delay on the exfil. The woman is in play, she's heading towards you. She's in red with a black scarf." Nicole said.

"Copy that." I began to pack up the rifle and Hayes looked at me, disappointed. "Circle the block, Craig, don't follow. We're gonna pick up the tail on the other side of the alley." I ordered.

"She's heading towards you," Nicole advised. "Maybe fifteen meters. That's Aida Hareb. Sister of Nasser Hareb. Mastermind behind the two biggest suicide attacks on American troops in Iraq."

"That's the one." I agreed. "She's definitely the one Jarif was meeting with."

"See if she can lead you back to him." Nicole instructed.

"She's rabbiting," Taylor informed. "She's rabbiting!"

"No-no, I got her. She ducked into the building." Thibault was panting, he must have been running "All right, Trig. I want you to cover that alley. Rendezvous on him. Taylor, I want to lock down the exits." He said in a whisper.

I breathed heavily and got my rifle back on the tripod, and aimed for the alley on the other side of the block. I could see Thibault waiting, blocking the alley. "Alright, second level."

We waited in silence.

"Third level." Taylor was breathing heavily. "Going in." I heard footsteps. "Aida Hareb!" He shouted. "Oh no no no!"

"She bit down on a suicide cap." Nicole said in a defeated tone.

Taylor was shouting. "No no no! You don't get to do that! Spit it out. Spit it out!" He groaned.

We sat at Hassan's table in silence. "How much longer on those exfil routes?" I asked, pacing the room.

"Five minutes or less." Nicole said. "We have no indication that anyone is aware of your presence. We're optimistic we can get you out safely."

"Hey, we have her phone and Jarif's number." Hayes said hopeful.

"That's something." Thibault mumbled.

"Jarif's number is meaningless. It will change in an hour." I replied.

Taylor sighed heavily. "I'm sorry, Trig, I don't know how she made me."

I shook my head, circling the table. "It doesn't matter. We can't control that."

The woman's phone beeped on the table.

"Incoming text on Aida's phone. Number is unidentified, but the text says I couldn't make it." Craig interpreted.

"It has to be Jarif." Hayes replied "Because Jarif doesn't know Aida is dead."

I nodded. "Compose your response."

"What are you thinking? Jarif doesn't know we're onto him." Taylor asked.

I grinned. It wasn't too late, we had a second chance. "If we can draw him out into another meeting, then we can finish what we started."

"Okay, there doesn't seem to be any sort of code." Hayes read the text over Craig's shoulder.

"She would be differential. Try, ' _perhaps tomorrow is better_ '."

The phone sent a shrill ring through the room, we froze.

"Alright, Tac, I'm going to have to answer the phone. We got one shot at this." I said, taking the phone.

I was fluent in Arabic, but I lacked in Farsi. And now I was nervous.

"Lebanese accent." Nicole said in my ear.

"Tac, I need you to give everything you have on Aida." I said. I held up three fingers, and folded them in one by one. As my pinky folded in, I flipped open the phone.

 _Hello?_

 _I'm sorry I was not there._

 _There was nothing wrong I hope._

 _Nothing. I was just detained. When did you get in?_

"Three days ago, eleven thirty." Tac said in my ear.

 _Tuesday morning._

 _How is your brother? It has been too long since I've seen him._

"Best guess is Aida saw her brother four months ago in Cyprus." Tac provided accurate and speedy info. And I was grateful.

"She should suggest an alternative." Hayes whispered.

"She can't." Taylor retorted. "Jarif will spook."

 _For me as well, but we talk often, and he is good, thanks to God. So, shall me meet?_

 _Of course. It is why I called. Four O'clock?_

 _Meet you at the tea house?_

 _No, not the tea house. I've grown tired of that place. My penthouse instead._

Taylor rubbed his eyebrow, tense. Finally, he nodded.

 _It would be my honour._

 _Wonderful. Until then._

I shut the phone and dumped it on the table with a heavy sigh.

Hayes sighed. "Well, it was a nice try, at least."

Everyone in the room fell silent, not making any eye contact with anyone else. How in the world were we going to get inside his fortress-like penthouse?

"What?" Hayes asked guardedly.

"This is crazy." Taylor said.

Hayes cleared his throat and leaned over his knees. "It's only crazy if Jarif had met her before. If not, it's a calculated risk, and it's Trig's risk to take."

They all looked up at me, still pacing.

I held my finger to my chin rubbing my mouth. "Put Aida's picture up there."

The tablet now displayed a photo of the woman I had just impersonated.

"What do you think?" Thibault asked, looking at the picture, then to me.

Hayes followed Thibault's gaze. "I think I could be done, but it shouldn't be done."

"Opinion noted." I said. "I'm doing a deep dive here. Aida and Jarif have never met. Aida's digital footprint is small, so we can swap in my photo, monitor the site, and see if Jarif checks up on her."

"Copy." Nicole replied.

"I want to put some poison in his drink or food. Once ingested, it'll take up to five minutes. So that means once he's taken it, I got to make up some kind of excuse to get out of there."

"Well, it's gonna look like he's having a heart attack." Taylor commented. "So even if you're up there, they're gonna hold you."

"Thibault, what are you thinking?" I turned to Thibault, who seemed to be deep in thought.

Thibault nodded slightly "I think it could work."

"The cultural bias is real." Hayes mumbled.

"It will never occur to Jarif or anyone else that Aida is a threat." Taylor added.

Craig scoffed. "We sure as hell didn't come all this was to go home knowing that this son of a bitch is still breathing air."

"Well, what I like about the plan is that Jarif's own place is the one place he'll feel most secure." Hayes said, ignoring Craig.

I strode towards them "I don't want anything affecting my decision in any way. None of you have a damn thing to prove to me. We don't have to run this mission. And as far as I'm concerned, we can walk out of here with our heads held high. In fact, we probably should."

I gazed at them, trying to keep any emotion from my face. "The next people might not be so lucky. Let's make sure there are no next people."

"Hell, yeah!" Thibault shouted.

Craig looked almost disappointed. He nodded with a tight smile. "Tac, she's going in."

"We can't let Trig walk in there alone." Hayes protested.

"I can't go in there. I'm gonna get made, Thibault, too." Taylor looked down at Hayes and Thibault. "So you guys need to set up positions in the lobby. We'll call it a business meeting with you and Hassan."

"Trig, there's no way to get guns in there." Hayes was worried.

It was now I decided to get into some kind of disguise, and look less like myself. I tied my hair back, and put on the hijab, and took off my boots. I found a pair of Hassan's flats and put them on. A little tight, but close enough. I sighed and looked at myself. Now I had to convince myself and the team that I was doing the right thing.

"I realise that." I replied nonchalantly.

"So we're going in naked?" Taylor whined.

I grunted impatiently. "Anything goes sideways you grab a guard, any guard and you make him your holster."

"That's an order I can get behind," Hayes chuckled.

"Hey, if anything goes wrong, improvise."

It wasn't long before I was expected at penthouse. I went in, feeling awkward. Not nervous, just uncomfortable. I hadn't had a purse slung over my shoulder since I was maybe four years old playing dress ups.  
I wondered too, if I had done enough to look more like the woman on Aida's ID card. I made my eyebrows thicker with make up, and made a dot on above my lip for the beauty mark. I used bronzer to create the dark circles under my eyes.  
I was a bit younger, but maybe, and I hoped like hell I could pull it off. I walked to the concierge stiffly, grasping the purse. No gun, no clue. Just an earpiece. No body cam, and no one beside me. I was alone.

"Trig, you'll be okay. We might not be there beside you, but we can hear everything, and we will be watching. Just keep your cool like you always do. Life is tough, but so are you." Nicole said.

I didn't reply, knowing I was being watched.

"I know you, Trig. You're strong and smart. Ninety minutes and we're on the road out of here." Taylor's voice resounded in my ear, and I found it soothing. Nothing could take me down as long as I had them. "I sure hope Flag don't find out about this. He'll skin me."

A woman looked up from the computer at the desk and stared at me. "Welcome to the Palace Hotel, Ms?" She spoke in Arabic.

"Hareb." I answered. I didn't bother to smile-I was too anxious to relax. "Mr. Jarif is expecting me."

The woman looked surprised. "Identification please?"

I handed her the card from my purse and held my breath.

She looked down at the photo, then back to me.

From the corner of my eye, Hayes and Taylor strolled past me casually. Hassan was sitting in the center of the room behind a small table, waiting for them. We had to be great actors to pull of this undercover stuff. I would have to praise them for keeping their cool under the pressure.

The woman clicked her fingers twice, and two armed men headed towards me.

I took in a sharp breath. Hassan was shaking hands with Taylor and Hayes, and offered them a seat. Hayes glanced in my direction quickly.

I turned back to the men.

"These gentlemen will show you to the elevator."

The two men guided me toward the elevator, and swiped a card for it to open.

I stood inside and chose the seventh floor.

"Okay, she's in." Hayes reported.

"I hate this, Hayes." Craig said. "I hate this sitting here." He was in the van outside, two blocks away. Too far for an emergency extraction. I wished Flag was in the lobby instead. But he was too white-skinned to pull off any recon in Tehran.

"I hate this more than they can ever know." Taylor finished quietly. I wondered if he had forgotten the mic was on.

"Yeah, so do we." Thibault responded lazily. "When it's you out there risking everything, but we have faith in you. So might as well have some faith in Trig. She pulled off some unbelievable stunts. No one can beat her I've known her half my life, and she doesn't stay down."

I looked down at Hayes, who watched me ascend. I was terrified that they were so far now. I was on my own.

The elevator beeped, and I walked out of the elevator, marching toward the large decorated door across the open space.

Two armed men guarded the door. One tall man in Iranian military greens approached me. "Miss Hareb, of course. It is an honour. I am Qassem, personal guard to Mr. Jarif. Do you mind?"

An armed woman approached me.

I shook my head. "Not at all."

The woman patted me down, checking for any weapons or wires.

Finding my fake wallet, she opened it and examined the contents before putting it back and nodding to Qassem.

"I apologise, but in these times on can never be too careful." Qassem said politely.

My head bobbed. "I understand."

The woman also took out Aida's phone from the purse and handed it to Qassem, who nodded as he guided me inside the room, where Jarif was sitting by the window, waiting patiently. "Sir, your guest has arrived." He placed the phone on the table.

"Aida, welcome. Thank you for coming."

"It is an honour to meet you, commander." I replied. "Apologies for my bad Farsi."

"It's better than my Arabic," he smiled. "English?"

I nodded. "Yes, of course." I had to throw in an Arabic accent.

"Qassem, you may leave us. Sit, please. Make yourself comfortable." Jarif said.

"Thank you, for receiving me." I replied, sitting on the couch in front of Jarif.

Qassem shut the door behind him as Jarif went back to his chair.

 _Now, I'm really alone,_ I thought. "My brother speaks of you often,"

"And when did you see him last?"

"Must be maybe four months ago in Cyprus."

Jarif nodded.

"And you?" I asked.

"It must be what? Three years now?" He sat down and watched me closely. "Wait."

I froze and my heart quickened. He was suspicious-had he found me out?

"There's something very wrong here."

His eyes glared at me, unwavering.

I took in a slow silent breath.

He laughed. "We don't have our tea."

I smiled at him and let out my breath in relief.

I heard a few sighs though the comms. "You must have a beautiful view," I said, looking out the window to the buildings below.

"I do, although I don't look at it often. Tehran prospers, despite the endless sanctions."

I stood up and decided this was the best place to put the poison. My body blocked Jarif from seeing me unclip the capsule of same suicide cap Taylor found on Aida's body, from inside my shirt. I emptied into one of the teacups, and poured in the tea. I also made one for myself, making sure to serve Jarif first. "How much sugar do you like?" I asked casually.

"My doctor says I shouldn't have any."

I laughed. "I don't like doctors."

"Yes, so do i."

"As I was saying, my brother is a great admirer of your work."

I handed him the tea cup and watched for a moment before taking my own. "He thinks of you as a hero. He's inspired by what you do."

Jarif blew gently on the tea cup. "Your brother is the inspiration. I fear this war will go longer than any of us would like. And its not just fought on the battlefield. It's fought on the internet, in the media. This is a war for hearts, for souls. It is one we must win."

"Jasmine," I cooed as I sniffed the tea, watching Jarif blow on his.

"My favourite."Jarif replied.

"Mine too." I rolled my eyes when he wasn't looking.

Aida's phone made a shrill ring, and vibrated against the glass, making me jump.

"It's Nasser," Jarif leaned forward to check the phone. "Did you tell him we are meeting? Aren't you going to answer it?"

I shook my head. "No. I'll do it later, when I leave."

"And worry him unnecessarily? I don't mind." He got up and flipped the phone open and put it down on the table, I'm guessing on speaker so he could hear.

"Aida, is that you?" The voice on the phone asked, speaking in Arabic.

Jarif looked at me expectedly.

"Why didn't you pick up the phone this morning?" The voice asked.

I couldn't risk talking- Aida's brother would recognise that I wasn't his sister.

"I was certain something had happened to you."

I stared at Jarif, who watched me, then lunged for the phone. I threw my hot tea in his face, allowing me time to take off the scarf from my head.

I kicked him in the shin, making him tumble to the floor, groaning in pain. I wrapped the scarf around his neck, and I jumped on his back to use both my arms, strangling him.

He crawled forward, and flipped me over onto the couch, but I didn't let go, forcing him to fall back onto me.

Jarif began to gurgle, and he fell onto the floor. One arm reached up to knock a vase on to the floor from the nearby table, but he was out of reach, just.

I yanked back on the scarf as hard as I could. "If you get killed by a woman, you don't go to heaven, right?"

Jarif grunted and gurgled, as he struggled to twist around and grabbed me. But I sat on his back and pulled harder.

"Well, guess what, Jarif? Those aren't the pearly gates you're seeing."

His neck snapped and he stopped moving. "Taylor, remember what you said about improvising? Time to improvise." I panted, trying to catch my breath.

"All right, Jarif's dead." Nicole confirmed.

"I didn't get to use the poison though." I looked around for a way out. "Okay, I think I might be able to get out of here, but I need some help." I checked Jarif's pulse, and sure enough-he was dead. But I had to be sure. His body was heavy as I dragged it into a nearby room, giving me a few extra moments to escape.

"Okay, Hayes, Taylor, I need you to each take a stairwell, I'm gonna need you to create a pathway. Hassan, you're gonna be our eyes and ears in the lobby. Tell us who's where. Tac, you tell us when the alarm goes up and be ready to get us out of the area when it does."

I casually walked out of the room, being sure to close the door on my way out. I nodded to Qassem and the armed female as I left, to make it seem like the meeting was over.

I was almost to the end of the hall near the stairs, when Qassem shouted.

"Miss Hareb!" he took a card from his pocket. "You need this to use the elevator, even to go down."

I took it from him and smiled. "Thank you." I turned away, and hoped they didn't enter the room right away, alerting the rest of the guards.

I was in the elevator, and the armed woman who followed me pushed the button to take me to the ground floor. Stupidly, she didn't enter with me. She walked away, back to Jarif's room.

"They know," Taylor said flatly.

I sighed and looked down at the guards running toward the elevator door below me. I pushed the button to the fifth floor, and hoped no one would be there to greet me.

"Taylor, you have to get out of there or else the whole city's going to rain down on you." Nicole said sternly.

"Negative, we're getting Trig out." He replied flatly.

More soldiers came from out of nowhere, straight toward me.

The elevator slowed and stopped on the fifth floor, and I jammed a few of the buttons before getting out and marching toward the stairs. "I'm on the fifth floor, heading to the south stairwell." I said, making a beeline for the stairs.

There were no guards in sight yet. "Twenty seconds."

"Okay, who's got the south?" Taylor asked.

"I'm on the third floor. She's clear to four. I got to stash this guy and there's more on their way." Hayes answered, panting.

"Okay, Trig, we're gonna checkerboard you to the lobby." Taylor ordered. "We'll pick you up at the south exit."

"Copy that." I replied, going through the door to the stairs, checking behind me. I bolted down the stairs to the third floor, and I went out into the corridor overlooking the lobby.

"Trig, you have three coming your way right now." Hassan warned.

I found a nearby laundry trolley, and ducked behind it.

The three men jogged right past, oblivious.

"You're clear, but you have to move fast." Hayes said.

Dashing into the next stairwell exit, I began to hurry.

"Taylor, she's coming to you." Hayes said lowly.

"Copy," he replied, and I opened the door right beside him.

"Taylor, Trig, two coming up from the lobby." Hassan said. "Trig, exit at the second floor."

Taylor continued down as I took a left, and out into the corridor.

"Good job. Taylor, fall back to the lobby, we're going to find Trig and exit." Thibault said, worry in his tone.

"Taylor, there's an alley on the west side behind the hotel there are three doors leading to it from the lobby." Nicole suggested.

Frustrated, I stopped at door number 204 and caught my breath. Men were shouting from below, and reality set in. Every minute I stayed here, it was going to be harder to get out.

"Taylor, there is no way she can get out through the lobby. I recommend Thibault and Hayes exit while they still can. And for Trig, we'll have to find another way to get her to the alley." Nicole said firmly.

"I don't need the lobby." I said, looking at my reflection in the glass window down the hall. "I'm gonna go out through the window."

"No, Trig, you're not. That's crazy." Hayes refused calmly.

"It's what Flag would do," I argued, marching toward the window. "Okay, I'm looking at a plate glass window that faces the alley. I'll be there in sixty seconds. Don't keep me waiting because I will probably have a broken leg."

"Okay, okay, we're on our way." Taylor agreed, though I could tell by his voice he wasn't happy about it. "Hayes, Thibault, stand by. If you don't hear from us, we're gonna rally back at the safe house. Let's go get her."

"Twenty seconds." I ordered.

"Okay, stop up here." Taylor instructed Craig.

"Ten seconds. Whoo, this is gonna hurt..." Just as I quickened my pace, one man jumped out and caught me, one arm around my throat. I thrashed against him, but I couldn't break free of his grasp.

He had my hands behind my back, and he forced me towards the elevator.

"They have Jaz," Hassan's voice was panicked. "I say it again, they have Jaz."

There was a high pitched growl, and something crashed.

But no one said anything.

It wasn't possible to outrun them now. More officers were approaching as Qassem pushed me across the lobby.

 _This is it,_ I thought, my eyes scanning the room. Hayes and Taylor broke eye contact and left the hotel. I breathed a sigh of relief knowing they were out. But I knew what the Iran soldiers did to women. Surely Blackburn wouldn't out me as an American spy? Of course he would. He needs to protect the rest of the squad. They're on the run now. Could I have started a new war? I should have expected nothing less from the Iran army, they were going to hold me no matter of Jarif's outcome. It was now I believed this was a one way trip.

"Alright, everybody listen up. We got one chance to get her back, that's to grab her before she leaves the hotel." Taylor instructed.

"Sam, that's a mistake." Hayes replied. "We need to get out of here."

"I'm aware." Taylor Said.

"Positive contact on Trig," Thibault informed, this voice mechanical. "Qassem has her. He's getting reinforcements. Elite Revolutionary Guard."

"Oh, this is not good." Hayes replied.

"We left good behind a long time ago." Craig said.

"It looked like they're taking her to the garage." Hayes added.

"Alright, we can work with that." Taylor responded quickly. "Thibault, I want you to rendezvous with Craig at the van one block northeast of here. Hayes, I need to know what Qassem is driving."

Hayes was breathing heavily, I guessed he was taking the stairs to the underground carpark. I looked around, but I couldn't see him anywhere. Qassem opened the door of his jeep, and shoved me roughly inside, and shuffled in beside me.

"They're loading her into a silver G-wagon, full size." Hayes confirmed.

More heavy breathing came from my earpiece, as the engine roared to life, and the jeep began to move.

I needed to tell them I was going to give them directions. I figured the Iranians couldn't speak French. I also knew Nicole would be listening, and she would translate. "Ne pas suivre, ecoutez attentivement."

"Shut up," Qassam yelled.  
I watched out the window, looking for the van. We passed it, and I began noting the directions we were taking. "La gauche," I whispered. "Droite, droite, la gauche, droite, la gauche,"

"That's enough!" Qassam's elbow met my head.


	22. Chapter 22 Force of evil

I inhaled sharply, and squinted my eyes. I saw white. No colour.  
The walls, the floor, the ceiling, my clothes, all white. My long black hair and my skin were they only difference.  
My hands were bound behind the chair, like I was in an jail cell. A door opened, and a man came inside.  
He stood in front of me, and another man wheeled in a trolley. I couldn't see what was under the cloth that covered the top.  
"My name is Arthur." He said. He too, was dressed in white, and the other man stood to attention behind him. "Mind if we sit?"  
"Que diable se passe-t'il? Pourquoi m'avez-vous pris? Laisse moi partier!" I shouted, looking up at him with my best poker face.  
I was now my POW (Prisoner of War) training kicked in. I was taught to say nothing, and if I had to, it needed to be innocent chatter.  
This experience was different for everyone who went through it. Some, went mad, smashing their own heads against the bars, or talking to dead relatives. Hallucinations. Some, were tortured to death. In Iran, women would endure a different sort of torture.  
"So the pity here is I don't speak French. But the lovely thing is all French speak some English, even if they don't like to."  
Great, he believed I was French, so far. All I needed to do was keep my mouth shut and wait for the tactical team to figure out my location for extraction. I needed to trust this thought.  
"So let's do that hmm? Oh, why all the whiteness? I'll give you a bit of context. Some Westerners call this white torture or sensory deprivation. I prefer to look at this as a blank slate." He paced around me slowly, hands behind his back.  
"Give me truth, and we'll fill in some colour together. Now, talk to me about how you managed to enter the Palace Hotel, access Fahim Jarif, and kill him. Who are you working for? And how did you get to Jarif? Simple questions. Simple answers." Arthur, if that was his real name, stopped in front of me and sat in the chair slowly. "Ooh. Silent rage. That old chestnut. Well, since you are determined to act like every other captured Spy, perhaps it is best to treat you as one for now." He looked at me, emotionless.  
His guard punched my face, and I began to drip blood over the white clothing draped over me. My lip felt numb, but the pain around it throbbed. We sat in silence, and I didn't budge.  
Not a sound, not a movement.  
I didn't even move my eyes. I just stared at him.  
"While you were napping, I took the liberty of examining your body." Arthur stood up, and lifted the white hospital-like gown over my knee and touched the bullet holes lightly. "These wounds were deep and old from a long time ago, or maybe from when you were a young girl. What sort of accident could cause this? Or maybe not an accident." He paced circles around me again. "What sort of person would do that, hmm?" He sighed "Let me tell you what I believe. I believe you snuck into Jarif's well-guarded hotel room and strangled him. I believe you had help from Mossad, the United States?"  
"Je n'ai aucune idea de ce que tu veux." I replied quietly.  
He laughed. "Really? Still with the French. Okay." He took out a black bag from under the cloth on the trolley.  
He slid it over my head, and I took in a deep breath. The torture was about to begin. Something hard touched my head, and I heard a click.  
I gasped a little, I knew it was a gun. My heart began to pound.  
There was no way he would kill me without a confession.  
What was he going to do?  
I needed to sound panicked- the innocent would have. So I let myself sob, and I breathed heavily as convincingly as I could muster without over doing it.  
"I'm a patient man," He whispered. "But my patience is not infinite."  
The gun shot right beside my ear, with a loud bang. I jumped and screamed out, but I couldn't hear myself over the ringing in my ears.  
It seemed like a long time before the ringing subsided, and I could hear a faint voice.  
If I was to make it out alive, I was going to come back and murder this son of a bitch with my bare hands.  
My hatred for the Iranians grew stronger at this moment.  
"Pretty soon, you are going to tell me who the hell you work for and how the hell you got to Jarif." He took of the bag from my head and I squinted at the brightness. He left me to recover, watching me and pacing around me like a vulture.

An hour passed, or maybe only a few minutes? This white out was messing up my senses, just like he'd said.  
"We have some new developments." He had a few pieces of paper in his hand, and he put them in my view. Recon photos of my team sitting down for lunch. A photo of Hayes and I at the airport.  
"I know you're strong. But would you rather die than have a chance to see your family again? Find love? Have children? Don't you care about your team? _Your_ team." He showed waved the photos at my face. "They were caught trying to rescue you. And you were captured because of your own stupidity." He showed me another photo, one of a man wearing the same suit Hayes was wearing on the op, only his face was unrecognizable.  
He was covered in blood, arms tied behind his back as he was slumped on a chair.  
"And this fellow, was killed because of you."  
I stared at the photo, feeling a deep sense of regret now. Yes it was possible the photo was fabricated, and yes, it was also possible that what he was saying was true. I stared at the photo, taking in every detail, and I didn't see any flaws.  
It looked like Hayes.  
"How many more will die? How selfish are you willing to be?" He threw the photos at my feet, and I closed my eyes in disgust.

Arthur sighed. "Everyone has a breaking point, love. There's no shame in recognising that this is yours. You have failed your team. One is already dead."

I bit lip hard to stop it from shaking, he would see I was about to crack. I needed to make it harder for him, and I needed to use what he threw at me.

"Save the rest by explaining your allegiances."

I opened my eyes, and Arthur was back in his chair, nodding at me.

"You're lying." I replied finally.

His face didn't change. "Ah, English! A break through!"

"You don't know, anything. And you don't have anything either. Because a sick bastard like you, wouldn't just bring me a picture if you killed someone I cared about. You bring me their severed head." I said nonchalantly.

"Oh, you think I'm a sick bastard. No. A sick bastard would stay and watch." He got up and walked out of the room, and the guard stood over the trolley. He unfolded a case of tools, and he chose a butcher's knife. He took out a small blow torch, and heated the blade.

I looked away as my heart pounded faster, almost punching through my chest.

The pain.

The humiliation.

The damage. The mind does interesting things under extreme stress.

The red hot metal sunk into my flesh, parting the skin like polythene. The pain consumes, but it's worse seeing it happen. My scream, once disbelief, is now gruesomely familiar in my ears. I know it won't stop him, but I still scream.

They say you see flashes of your life gone by before you die? That's wrong. For me, I saw things that could have been. Flag and I growing old together. My men, living happy and harboured lives. Peace in the world.

 _Jaz! Don't let them win!_

My muscles locked into place, froze me where I sat. Because it wasn't the Arthur's voice that rebuked me now. It was a furious voice, a familiar voice, a beautiful voice–soft like velvet even though it was irate.

It was _his_ voice–I was exceptionally careful not to think his name–and I was surprised that the sound of it did not knock me to my knees, did not curl me onto the floor in a torture of loss. But there was no pain, none at all.

In the instant that I heard his voice, everything was very clear. Like my head had suddenly surfaced out of some dark pool. I was more aware of everything–sight, sound, the feel of the cold air that I hadn't noticed was caressing my face, the smells coming from the burning flesh.

I looked around myself in shock.

 _Life is tough, but so are you_ , the lovely voice ordered, still angry. _Do nothing stupid._

I didn't have to look to know who it was; this was a voice I would know anywhere–know, and respond to, whether I was awake or asleep… or even dead, I'd bet. The

voice I'd walk through fire for–or, less dramatically, slosh every day through the cold and endless rain for.

Kowalski.

But I was alone. The guard stood a few feet from me, staring at me with frightened eyes. Against the wall, confused, wondering what I was doing, sitting there motionless in the chair.

I shook my head, trying to understand. I knew he wasn't there, and yet, he felt improbably close, close for the first time since… since the explosion. The anger in his voice was concern, the same anger that was once very familiar–something I hadn't heard in what felt like a lifetime.

 _Keep your cool_. The voice was slipping away, as if the volume was being turned down on a radio.

I began to suspect that I was having some kind of hallucination. Triggered, no doubt, by the memory–the Deja vu, the strange familiarity of the stress in the situation.

I ran through the possibilities quickly in my head.

Option one: I was crazy. That was the layman's term for people who heard voices in their heads. Possible.

Option two: My subconscious mind was giving me what it thought I wanted. This was wish fulfillment–a momentary relief from pain by embracing the incorrect idea that he cared whether I lived or died.

I could see no option three, so I hoped it was the second option and this was just my subconscious running a muck, rather than something I would need to be hospitalized for.

My reaction was hardly sane, though–I was _grateful_. The sound of his voice was something that I'd feared I was losing, and so, more than anything else, I felt overwhelming gratitude that my unconscious mind had held onto that sound better than my conscious one had.

The wise thing would be to run away from this potentially destructive–and certainly mentally unstable–development. It would be stupid to encourage hallucinations.

Very few seconds had passed while I sorted this all out. My little audience watched, curious.

It probably looked like I was just dithering over whether or not I was going to give in to them. How could they guess that I was standing there enjoying an unexpected moment of insanity?

After a while, they leave you alone, curled around your wounds. They always do. It gives you time to think about what they have done to you, more importantly about what else they have not yet done.  
The fevered imagining of what is still to come is almost as potent a tool in their hands as the heated irons and blades themselves. When you hear them returning, the echo of footsteps induces such fear that you vomit up what little bile you have left in your stomach.

Though I appeared to be, for the moment, freed of the zombie abstraction, I was just as distant.

My mind was preoccupied.

The safe, numb deadness did not come back, and I got more anxious with every minute that passed without its return.

Arthur returned, and peered down at me, sombre. "Again, who do you work for?"

Hesitantly, I began whispering mumbled English, which didn't even make sense to myself.

"What?" Arthur crept closer, to listen.

I continued my babbling, looking straight at him.

Arthur's face was mere inches from mine, his ear towards my face. "Yes?"

I lifted my head and smashed it into his, feeling my skull give soggily with the impact. I ground down against the recoil of the crunch.

Leaving the inside of my head feeling stark, like an unfurnished room. I waited for the feeling to fade, like most after-effects, it did.

Arthur patted his cheek gingerly, glaring at me as if I was a particularly poisonous species of spider on his kitchen floor. "Very cute, American." His hand flung back, and whisked me across the face.

At first it was numb, then the entire side of my face burned and throbbed with the sting.

"I'm not a fucking American. My name is Aida Hereb."

Arthur looked disappointed, wiping his blood stained hand on a white cloth. "Oh." But then he grinned devilishly. "We took the tracker out of you."

"What tracker?" I snapped.

"Clever, you swallowing it. But, this entire building is fitted with transmission dampers." His voice was low and he spoke very deliberately, and confidently. "From the minute you were brought in-well, when we rolled you, your signal vanished." He chuckled as his eyes bore down me intensely as I eyed the door. "Help is not coming." He sneered. "It's just you and me, American." He threw the cloth onto the trolley and crouched beside me. "Now, why did you come to the Palace Hotel and meet with Jarif?"

"Because he's friends with my brother," I decided to continue with the identity I had taken. "I'm Aida Hereb, I'm not American."

"So, the tracker is CIA issued. Makes sense." He breathed heavily, believing he had made progress. "You being a CIA agent, and all."

I screamed in frustration. "I don't know you! I'm not CIA!"

"Who hired you to kill Jarif?" He yelled, as his hand met my face in a fit of rage. Arthur hit with bruising force.

By now my headache was beginning to make my vision blurred, I struggled to keep my head from bobbing down to my chest. And saw Arthur's burrowed features a thousand meters above me.

My vision flew apart in splinters. I twisted, trying to fight the urge to roll into a fetal ball

"Let's start again." He said, like vast sheets of cardboard being torn in the distance.

I snapped up from the waist, striking for his groin with my foot. The blow was out, spending itself in the meat of this thigh. Almost casually, he swung his arm and the power knuckles hit me. I saw a scribble of multi-coloured lights and then everything whited out.

Consciousness was something in wide elliptical orbit around my head.

Anger ran through the fog in my head like a hot wire. I propped myself up and focused on Arthur waiting on the other side of the room.

"Wakey wakey, or, gas and a blow torch?" Arthur was grasping a fuel canister and blow torch, pacing around me like a vulture to its prey. "Who hired you to kill Jarif?"

I drew a breath hard through my teeth and it made a satisfying growling noise. "He tried to kill me."

"Like he'd bother," Arthur retorted. "It's not easy to take out some one as powerful as Jarif." He tipped the fuel around my chair, and threw the can into one corner, watching my reactions closely. He still expected to give in. He flicked the lid on the lighter impatiently.

"Wait," I stammered. "Wait, wait. Okay, my name is. My name is…" I looked up at and snarled. "Fuck you."

Arthur sighed heavily with anger as I gasped in another breath and screamed. "Fuck you!"

Just then, the door burst open, and another man summoned Arthur.

Arthur looked deeply dismayed as he was called out of the room.

There is no conditioning that can prepare you for having a cigarette stubbed out in your eye, for being burned to death, being raped, drowned, suffocated.

To the mind, pain is pain, eventually, you will break.

If it doesn't stop, you will go insane.

The mind does interesting things under extreme stress.

Hallucination. Displacement. Retreat.

As Tier Ones we learn those things: not as blind reactions to adversity, but as moves in a game.

Beat the player, not the game.

There are things you can't kill your way out of.


	23. Chapter 23 Blurred lines

My breathing was shaky as Arthur returned. "It's ironic, really. You've fought so bravely, resisted with such tenacity held onto your secrets better than I ever thought you could. Never would I have imagined that the questions I asked of you would be answered by your own government. The country has forsaken you, outed you as an American spy."

 _No!_ I thought, resisting the urge to cry out or blink. _They wouldn't…_ Shaking.. I couldn't believe what he had just said.  
I believed Blackburn had just signed my death warrant. I knew that if i survived torture or capture by the Iranians, I would not be able to walk for a year.

My heart dropped out of my chest and landed soggily in my gut.

"After all the torture, the hood, the knives, the gun, your people have done my work for me."

"You're lying."

A split second later a calloused palm edge cracked into the left side of my skull and my head collapsed to my chest. A fist lashed into my face and I went the rest of the way down.

I treed to get up and got a second first in face for the trouble. Blood dripped from my nose onto my knee.

"That wasn't smart, American." The voice was marginally less calm. "If you think your friends can trace us to where you're going, then they must have fucked with your brain. Let's take a ride, shall we?" He grabbed my arm and pulled me to my feet, and pushed me out the door. Finally, the white was now colour.

I was pushed down a long, dark hall, and made to wait at the end. Arthur stood behind me and unlocked the handcuffs, humming without a tune.  
The door banged open, and I jumped. Fresh sweat sprang on my skin. Two bearded men with eyes of hot jet came into the hall. They were both dressed in loose linen for the heat.

I flung myself at them, just to unlock the freezing panic reflex and gain some measure of control over the built-in helplessness.  
One of them fended off my arms and back handed me across the faces. It floored me. I lay there, face numb, tasting blood. One of them yanked me back to my feet by an arm. Distantly, I saw the face of the other, the one who had hit me, and tried to focus on him.

"So," He said." "We begin."

I lunged for his eyes with the nails of my free arms. The Seal training gave me the speed to get there but i had no control and missed. Two of my nails drew blood on his cheek. He flinched, and jumped back.

He cursed, lifting a hand to claw the mark and examining the blood on his fingers.

"Oh _please_ ," I managed, out of the unnumbed side of my mouth. "Do we have a script too?" I jammed to a halt.

" _Not_ Aida Hareb, then," he said. "We progress." This time, he hit me just under the rib cage, driving all the breath out of my body and paralysing my lungs.  
I folded over his arm like a coat and slid off onto the floor, trying to draw breath. All that came out was a faint creaking sound. I twisted on the concrete while, somewhere high above me, he snapped the handcuffs from Arthur's hands. It make an obscene clanking sound.

He squatted beside me and cuffed one of my hands. I thrashed as if galvanised and this time, and it took him a moment to immobilise my other arm long enough to repeat the process. An urge to scream that wasn't mine surfaced and I fought it down. Pointless. Conserve your strength.

The floor was hard and uncomfortable against the soft skin of my elbows.

The energy was draining on me quickly-the tiredness, the hunger, all making themselves more apparent.

I was shoved into the back of a van, and my handcuffs chained to the roof.

Arthur climbed in after me, and the doors slammed behind him.

The engine turned over, and the van shook. "Evin Prison. That's where we're going right now. You will spend the night in solitary. Actually, that's not accurate. I'll be with you." He grinned.

I swallowed hard, knowing I was going to be executed publicly next. And, quite possibly, Alpha Dogs won't even stick around to watch. A tear rolled down my face, but I only allowed one.

"Your country may have told us who you are, but there is so much more inside your brain I need to extract."

"I will give you nothing." I replied bluntly.

"You will give me everything."

I closed my eyes, waiting for the voice to return, to comfort me. To tell me he loved me. But nothing but the humming of the van as it sped down a smooth road.

Surely, if my men were going to rescue me, they'd have succeeded by now.

I blinked hard and faced the horrifying facts.

There was nothing I could do. There were no precautions I could take. There was no place I could hide. There was no one who could help me.

I realized, with a nauseous roll of my stomach, that the situation was worse than even that.

A global catastrophe was caused, not only by me, but Alpha Dogs, too. They were also in danger. What if they hadn't made it out?

The tremors rocked me until my teeth chattered.

To calm myself, I fantasized the impossible: I imagined a big nuke meeting the ground in Tehran, blowing us all into smithereens, and massacring the indestructible rebels the way they would any normal person. Despite the absurdity of such a vision, the idea comforted me.

If the enemy was destroyed, the insurgents then couldn't tell if I was here all alone.

My good soldiers were never coming back; how soothing it was to imagine that the _other_

kind could also disappear.

I squeezed my eyes tight together and waited for unconsciousness–almost eager for my

nightmare to start.

Pain will be without limit. The interrogator will be without mercy.

It is a universe of suffering. There will seem to be no end. Accept that it will never stop.

Scream your way through it, or cry, or bleed, let them think they have begun to break you.

Remember only one thing. An animal in the forest is caught in a trap. It will flail, bite, snap, try to escape. Gnaw its own leg off. You are no animal. You are a DEVGRU operator. You aren't trapped.

You're waiting.

They control the environment.

Wait.

Find the weakness in the enemy.

We are patient. We wait. We endure. We find the weakness, and then we strike.

Even if it is to destroy the weakness in ourselves.

Convince him you are broken. He believes you are the one in the trap. Use that. Take what is offered. Use it. Let him believe you are weak. Until he discovers you are not.

My eyes flashed open. I remembered it all. The Green team training that seemed so long ago now.

I found Arthur sitting across from me, staring at me blankly.

"I'm not who you think I am." I croaked.

"Who are you supposed to be now?" Arthur replied stoically.

I grinned weakly. "Someone you truly should not have fucked with."

Arthur's face dropped.

"You dumb motherfuckers abducted and tortured and Navy Seal. You got any idea what the Corps with do to you for that? They'll hunt you down and feed you to the K9 units. All of you. Then your families, then your business associates, then _their_ families, and the anyone else who gets in the way. By the time Colonel Flag is finished you won't even be a memory. You don't fuck with a Commanding Officer and live to write songs about it. They'll _eradicate_ you." That was a colossal bluff.

"Shit." Arthur breathed, staring wide eyed at me. "Why would the Special Forces Operator be sniffing around Tehran, huh?" he fought back.

"Jarif." My gaze was not friendly.

Arthur scoffed. "No one know where you are. In fact, they will see your blood splattered all over the news soon enough. They'll never find us."

"They'll find you," I said, with the confidence that a strand of truth in the lie provided. "You can't hide from The United States. They'll find you whatever you do. About he only thing you can hope for now is to try cut a deal."

"What deal?" Arthur asked.

"Well, first of all, you cut me loose, and no one talks about this to anybody. Let's call it a professional misunderstanding. And then you open some channels for me. Name some names. Black market like Iran, the information circulates. That might be some worth to me."

"As i said before, you're going to the prison. Then I won't be involved-"

I came off the rail, letting just enough anger bleed through. "Don't fuck with me, pal. You _are_ involved. Like it or not, you took a big bite out of something that didn't concern you, and now you're either going to chew it, or spit it out. Which one's it gonna be?"

"I will consider this." Arthur turned away.

With the new realisation I knew this was how the DEVGRU's worked. A common snatch and grab. And I was being moved from the push of the American government. Now was the perfect time to intervene.

But too much time had passed.

There was no gunfire, or screeching of tires. There was nothing the rumble of tires under the floor beneath us.

How selfish was my hope? Or maybe what Arthur said was true-they outed me as a spy to protect the others. But the new global threat was inevitable.

For what I did to Jarif has sparked a new war between Iran and the U.S. And who remains in the Alpha Dogs would be led to their deaths.

I knew what was coming. Not only a public execution, but the humiliation of everything else. The murder of the insurgent's commander, the fact that I _am_ American in Iran- Illegally. And a trained American, at that. But surely now, Arthur and Qassem knew exactly who I was, even if they didn't say it aloud.

If only I could tell my father and Andy how much I really loved them before it was far too late. If only I took the order to exfil when I was advised. If only I left with my team, instead of making a feeble attempt to assassinate one of Iran's biggest warlords. But my regrets were far too late now. The world would move on, and the sun would rise without me.

There was a sudden explosion from outside the van, shaking us as we screeched to a halt.

Arthur stood up and was flung to the floor by the force of the brakes, and his gun flew from his hand.

I grabbed Arthur's neck with my feet, and squeezed as hard I could.

There was the rattle of gunfire outside, and bullets smashed through the glass of the cabin as Arthur tried to break free. He reached up to grab me, but I bit his hand, tasting his blood through my teeth. The chain bound around my ankles tightened against Arthur's neck.

The gunfire stopped, but I didn't. I put as much strength in the chain as I could, making it tighter around his neck.

He relaxed slowly, and I kept the chain tight, breathing heavily with the adrenaline. He finally slumped to the floor, and I tried to catch my breath. There was a thump against the van door, and I froze, eyes wide as I watched the door.

"Trig, turn steel!" A voice outside the van was muffled.

Someone was here for me! I realised and used the last of my energy to turn away from the door, shielding myself from the blast.

"Clear!"

A loud bang shrilled through the van, and sparks showered the floor. The force of the explosion forced my against the wall of the van, and I slumped against the van wall, my ears ringing.

My eyes were cloudy when I tried to open them, and the voices outside were distant.

I expected Charlie Team to pick up the pieces after a failed op by Alpha, and I wanted to see someone I recognised at least.

The door flung open. "Clear!"

Arthur's body was being dragged out of the van, and two blurry figures who stood over his body on the ground.

"Got him?"

"Yeah." One of them pulled out his pistol and shot Arthur in the head twice. A comforting sound, though, there went my hope for revenge later.

Someone climbed into the van and scrambled to their knees beside me, tugging on the hand cuffs.

"Jaz?" Flag's voice shouted.

Though I tried to respond, but my mouth and eyes wouldn't move.

Something smashed against the chain holding my hands together, and my arms fell to my lap. I groaned.

"Trig? Jesus." Someone said.

"Come on, come on," Flag was urging, as though he were trying to tell the men to help me.

"I'm gonna give her a shot of epinephrine." Someone said.

"Come on, hit her!" Another voice replied.

I felt some energy return, but only a small bit. I groaned as something sharp poked my skin.

"There she is." Taylor's voice sounded relieved.

"Let's go." A voice said. In a quick and supple notion, Flag pulled me from the seat and into his arms.

I hung there, limp, as Flag loped swiftly into another van.

It didn't seem like too much time passed before there were lights and the deep babble of many male voices.

"Quds will be here soon." Another voice sounded rushed. "Cops will be locking down the city."

I couldn't make sense of what they were talking about. I pried my eyes open, and saw vaguely familiar faces, but dressed Iranian fatigues. A confusing swirl of faces moved over me. Was I dreaming?

Only now did I feel the searing, stinging pain that ran from my ribs to the crease inside my knee.

Dazed and disoriented, I looked up from the bright red blood pulsing out of my torso–into the frantic eyes of the five suddenly alarmed Special Forces Operatives.

I tried to call out to Flag, but I only heard weak muttering coming from my dry mouth.

"Just hold on," Flag's beautiful velvet voice whispered anxiously.

I was startled at the sound of _his_ voice, but it should not have surprised me.

"Let's go guys!"

"Alright, I got her." Flag said calmly. The van door slammed, and we lurched forward, tires screeching.

My eyelids were strangely heavy, but I fought to see the men who had come to my rescue.

Flag's heart was pounding in is chest, looked down at me. There was a pair of familiar green eyes. I gasped and let out a quiet sob of relief. I wished I could tell him how much I was sorry, but I couldn't find my voice.

"Okay." Flag said softly. "We got you."

I let out a slow breath of calm and sleep dragged me under.

I opened my eyes again when the van door opened.

Flag's weight shifted under me, and I was carried outside. Two men now grabbed me under the arms, making the knife wound stretch open. I fought back a whimper.

"From here it's a short drive to the Turkish border. Esendere crossing the smaller and least patrolled land crossing out of the country." Hassan advised.

"Night time will help," Taylor said.

I was slowly pulled up from the ground, and I slumped on something cold and hard. The smell of fruit wafted across me.

My vision became more clear, and we were in the middle of no-where, the desert.

Flag climbed onto the back of the truck with me and guided me to a lower deck behind a large crate. I grunted painfully as I laid down on the wooden panel, and Flag climbed in behind me, shifting his arm to beneath my head, creating a pillow

"Well, that's good, 'cause they're gonna be looking for us."

Taylor and Thibault climbed into the cavity beside us, and Hassan placed planks across the hollow, concealing us from anyone who may be searching the truck.

"And we'll be looking for our contact, Reza, with border security. For a price, he's willing to help us. He'll be expecting us. I built this for smuggling runs into Iraq. Craig, you're gonna ride in the front with me. All right, let's get her up here, nice and slow."

"Here we go." Flag whispered, and Hassan started the truck. "Talk to me." I swallowed hard. "I should've played things differently. I got us all into this mess."  
"Did you kill Jarif the guy who orchestrated the murders of civilians and children and your fellow servicemen?" Hayes droned.

"Yeah," My voice was husky with the residue of sleep.  
"Are we getting out of this country?" He asked.  
I looked over at Thibault, not more than two feet away, looking at me with sympathy, which made me feel even worse. "Yeah, we are. So then that's it, all right? You did good." Flag added.  
"Jackpot." Taylor agreed.  
The sun had gone down and it was pitch black.  
The truck never stopped.  
"Tac," Taylor said suddenly, making me jump as I dozed in Flag' arms. "What's our ETA?"  
I was anxious to get out-but I was content exactly where I was. I was simply too exhausted to worry about anything - tired from just being tortured and sedated, and aching from the shivering. My body relaxed slowly as I thawed, piece by frozen piece, and then turned limp. "Rick?"

"Hmm?" his voice sent vibrations through me.

"What took you so long?" I didn't have anything else to say. As the silence lengthened, my eyelids drooped and shut, and my breathing grew slower, more even.

"That's right, honey, go to sleep," His voice whispered. I tried to do what he instructed. It was hard; the instinct for fight or flight was nearly uncontrollable.

I sighed, content, already half-unconscious.

"Flag?" Thibault whispered. "She okay?"

"I think so. But she needs to get to the hospital ASAP she's very weak and keeps losing consciousness."

"That was too close, Taylor. It can't happen again. What if Blackburn loses his job over this?" Logan Thibault began, his voice sounding higher and more stressed than usual.

Taylor didn't say anything.

"I'm serious. We can't let this happen again. What if we were too late?"

"Keep your questions to yourself." Taylor grunted.

"No one said you had to listen."

Taylor huffed. "Trig made the decision to go in. No one forced her. And believe me, I did think about stopping her."

"Well, why didn't you?" Flag hissed.

"Because she wouldn't forgive me if I did." Taylor sighed. "If we didn't get to her, there wouldn't be anything of her left to hate with. She is a valuable asset, and I'd hate for her to get into this kind of trouble again."

"Flag, she's our commander. Her choice overrules ours. Every. Single. Time." Hayes added.

There was no response.

I was too far gone to ask them to stop talking about me like I wasn't there. The conversation had taken on a dreamlike quality to me, and I wasn't sure I was really awake.

"I'm sorry about before." Flag said.

"Are you?" Taylor grunted.

Flag grunted. "Yeah, I was out of line. I was just worried about Jaz."

"Well that's obvious." Taylor chuckled.

Thibault groaned. "Will you girlies shut it?"

Flag didn't respond for a moment, listening to the tires crush the gravel, the humming of the engine or digesting what he'd heard, I didn't know which.

It was then that I let the pain take me.

Then I was aware of the voices. They were just a humming at first, and then they grew in volume and clarity like someone was turning up a radio.

"She's had too much to deal with today. Let her mind protect itself."

But my mind was not protected. It was trapped in the knowledge that had not left me, even

in unconsciousness - the pain that was part of the blackness.

I felt totally disconnected from my body. Like I was caged in some small corner of my head, no longer at the controls. But I couldn't do anything about it. I couldn't think. The agony was too strong for that. There was no escape from it.

A warm palm pressed against my cheek, and then fingers stroked my forehead, but I couldn't find a force in me to tell whoever it was to stop making a fuss. Instead, I let myself slip back under.

I woke up again, a dreamless slumber. We were still in the truck, and still in the dark.

Faint voices became clearer as I came to.  
"At the crossing, let me do the talking. If they ask, we're delivering produce to the Hakkari province." Hassan said.  
"Are you really coming with us?" Craig answered.  
"Iran is over for me. It has been ever since my daughter Mayam died. I'm ready to leave."  
"I thought you said it was the least patrolled."  
"It usually is. Increased presence at the border."  
"Instead of two guards, I'm looking at six, maybe eight soldiers."  
The truck began to slow, groaning as Hassan shifted down a gear, and finally breaking. I could hear indistinct chatter, shouting and low tones.  
"Border guards commencing search." Flag whispered, placing his hand over my mouth gently. "Shhh Jaz."  
"They've got us on border lock."  
"There's no way past that."  
"There is one way."  
"Stay sharp." Flag was breathing heavily, although I wasn't coherent enough to know why. And I wasn't going to ask if he told me to be quiet.  
There was more shouting, and someone opened a crate above us.  
Hassan chuckled.  
Taylor and Hayes sighed in relief, but then one man stopped above us, and jammed a crowbar in the crack between the planks concealing us from them.  
My breathing was shaky now, as I began to realise what was happening. They were about to find us…  
Flag took his hand off my mouth and back onto my head, trying to comfort me. I squeezed my eyes shut hard, looking away from the planks above.  
"They've been made." Craig said from the cab.  
A man outside began shouting.  
"When I say hit it, punch the engine." Hassan ordered.  
"No. There's got to be another way."  
"These monsters killed my daughter. They don't kill my friends, too."  
There was more Arabic shouting, but not clearly enough for me to understand.  
Hassan opened his door and jumped out, crushing the dirt below. "Go!"  
There was deafening gunfire mere feet from us, and the truck suddenly punched forward, barrelling at such a speed, that every bump made me slam into the wood below.  
I groaned, and Flag held me tighter.  
The gunshots faded, and it sounded like we crashed into something, but we didn't stop. The ride became smoother.  
"We are through the border, heading west on D-400, ETA six hours to Incirlik." Thibault shouted.  
"We're clear." Craig confirmed.  
Flag let out a long breath in my ear. "Tac, inform the Turkish government that we have a vehicle in priority transit. Make sure there's a medical team standing by waiting to tend to Jaz the second she arrives on that base."

The sun began to rise, and I cherished the fresh air hitting my skin.  
The last few days I'd thought I would never see the sun again or feel the wind in my hair. But here I was, on the back of the truck racing away from the Iranian border.  
We had to stop to refuel, so we all climbed out from under the hollow and stretch out on the deck.  
Flag was nestled under a jacket on top of a crate, and I sat on the very edge watching the horizon-though it never came.  
Thibault was perched on top of crates, staring out into the desert, and Taylor was humming to himself in the corner, knees propped up against his chest.  
Craig was still driving. The last several hours was a blur-maybe someone would enlighten me. But for now, I enjoyed what freedom I did have-for now.

But my attention drifted. I was surprised to find that the subject of my freedom was suddenly not as gratifying as it had been just a moment ago. I looked over myself, as I began to feel itches and stings all over me. The white gown was still draped over me, splattered with dried blood.  
Was it mine? I looked around at my team-none of them were injured.

I looked through the back window of the cab. Craig sat inside, unmoving like a statue.  
My ribs began to ache. My arms and legs stung. My chest tightened and I began to panic.  
The syringe Thibault gave me had worn off, and I could feel my injuries.  
I groaned and looked over myself, touching the tears in the fabric, and the dried blood that hardened around them.  
Then I remembered the searing hot metal blade. My recollections of time during the torture were hazy - the Seal conditioning was deliberately curtaining off the experience to avert the trauma - but even if it had gone on a couple of days, that was about ten minutes real time.  
The finger tips scraped over the roughness of torn skin in the wound, and I felt something membranous throb against one of them below my ribs. I grimaced at the movement of the gown against the wound. "Fuck that stings."  
Flag stirred, but remained asleep, and Thibault looked up at me.  
"You alright?" He asked.  
One eyebrow arched. "Got any more of that stuff?"  
He shook his head. "Sorry, Trig. That's all I had. It was strong, too but you kept fighting it."  
I grinned. "Typical," I winced as I tried to shift my weight. "What happened?"  
"It took us two weeks to find your location, a slaughterhouse. And we couldn't get in. So Blackburn outed you as an American spy to get Qassem to move you."  
My eyebrows pulled together. "Two weeks?"  
Taylor continued. "I'm glad we got you back boss."  
My eyes darted to Flag, who was curled up under the jacket. "I can't imagine how hard that must have been."  
"I can't tell you how he felt." Thibault replied quietly. "We should check you over."  
"I'm fine. Just a little sore." But I was wrong. More fresh air hit me in the face as the wind picked up, making me dizzy. "Trig, you don't look too good…" Hayes warned.

I sunk down to the deck and leaned my head against it, feeling the world spin around me. Hayes' and Thibault's voices were sounding muffled and my skin was all hot and prickly. I breathed slowly in and out, focusing on that to calm myself.

Blood was drying in thick streaks across my cheek and neck, matting in my muddy hair.  
I examined myself clinically, pretending the blood was paint so it wouldn't upset my stomach. I breathed through my mouth, and was fine, but I was sucking in the air too quickly, and I suddenly felt light-headed. "I can't breathe…" I whimpered.

A warm liquid burned my lungs and my throat was too full of blood to catch a breath.

I couldn't see anything but darkness everywhere, reaching for my face.

"Breathe!" a voice, wild with anxiety, ordered, and I felt a cruel stab of pain where I recognized the voice–because it wasn't Thibault's even though I was just speaking to him a moment ago.

I could not obey. The warm, metallic blood filled my chest, burning.

A rock smacked into my back again and again, right between my shoulder blades, and another volley of liquid choked its way out of my lungs.

"Breathe, Trig! C'mon!" Taylor begged.

Black spots bloomed across my vision, getting wider and wider, blocking out the light.

The rock struck me again.

The rock wasn't cold like the air; it was hot on my skin. I realized it was Taylor's hand, trying to beat the liquid from my lungs. The iron bar that had dragged me from the deck was also… warm… My head whirled, the black spots covered everything…

Was I dying again, then? I didn't like it–this wasn't as good as the last time. It was only dark now, nothing worth looking at here.

The sound of the humming engine faded into the black and became a quiet, even _whoosh_ that sounded like it was coming from the inside of my ear.


	24. Chapter 24 For the record, this blows

"What are you doing here?" I asked sourly.

He smiled. "Nice to see you too, Jaz. How have you been? Oh that's right, you were almost blown up, near killed in the streets of Midway City, _and,_ held as a Prisoner of War since I saw you last. I'm glad we cleared that up." Andy's glare was vicious. I'd never seen him look at anyone like that, least of all, me. It hurt with a surprising intensity- a physical pain, stabbing my head.

"Yeah, I'm directly in the line of fire, it's the job. You know the risks we take." I replied heartlessly.

Andy's glare was malevolent. "What was Iran about?" he crossed his arms.

"Well…." I started.

"Stop right there. I feel like there's a part of you I'm not allowed to see anymore. Ever since you joined the Tier Ones, all you have done is get yourself into trouble. And Kowalski-" Andy fought back the tears as his voice wavered.

I looked down at my hands, ashamed. It was my fault he was in the line of fire in the first place. "I made a stupid call, but Andy-this is my life. My job. And where were you when I need you, huh? Running around playing cops and robbers in Afghanistan. Where were you when Team Alpha saved the world and I was recovering from a gun-shot wound and blood poisoning? Where were you when I was-" I stopped and caught my breath, trying not to let my anger flare. "Andy, we were so close. We're Marines, we know what it means."

"No, you're top tier operative on the special forces. _I'm_ a marine. Your values are reckless and you have no morality."

I took a deep breath. "What do I have to do to make you proud, Andy?"

"Quit. I want you to quit, Jaz. Before you kill yourself!" Andy shouted.

Thibault came jogging into the barracks, his face laced with concern and confusion. "What's going on?"

Andy threw up his hands in frustration. "Oh, great. You're taking her side. Why not? I mean you're on that goddamned team as well!"

Thibault grinned. "Andy? What are you doing here? Is everything okay?"

I sat on the desk and looked at Thibault. "Andy's trying to play Dad."

Thibault frowned. "What do you mean?"

"He wants me to quit. Probably make a living stacking shelves or something." I rolled my eyes.

Andy sighed. "That's not what I meant."

"Andy, you can't ask me to leave the only thing I know!" I yelled.

Thibault put his hands on his hips and looked at me, then Andy, and back at me again. "I don't understand what he's doing here. Andy, aren't you supposed to be on tour?"

"No," Andy snapped. "I'm not going to re-up. And I want to take my sister home."

Thibault chewed his lip. "Why?"

"Why?" Andy scoffed. "Have you forgotten? She was tortured and was going to be executed for the murder of one of the most famous drug-lords in Iran. She's my sister, and I'm going to take her home before she does whatever that bone-head Flag tells her to do that will cost her life! Every time I'm called back here to the hospital to see my sister with new holes in her, _he_ is always there!" Andy was shouting at Thibault now, and I feared everyone in the hangar would hear his tantrum.

"Calm down," I begged.

Flag strode into the room, probably hearing his name. "What's going on here?"

We all turned to look at him.

"You!" Andy growled. "It's your fault!"

"Whoa-can we not do this again?" Flag said, putting up his hands in protest.

"You just can't help it can you? You see an innocent woman and take advantage. I know people like you." Andy stood in front of him, seemingly short in comparison to Flag's towering height.

"There aren't any people like me." Flag sneered. "Andy," his voice still quiet and even. "I don't want any fighting, do you understand? It's over." Flag looked only at Andy when he spoke. "I can go put my cap on if that makes my request more official." Flag's stance was casual, his arms folded across his chest, but the muscles in his jaw were tight.

"That won't be necessary," Andy said in a restrained tone.

"You need to leave, now." I said firmly, standing up.

Andy whirled around glared at me. "You aren't working for this idiot anymore. You're coming home."

I turned away from him childishly. "This is my home."

"Not anymore it isn't." Andy said with a thick edge of annoyance, his long fingers wrapping around my arm tightly like tourniquets.

"Andy, take it easy," Thibault said, creeping up slowly. "Flag isn't going to hurt Trig, he loves her, okay? So calm down."

Andy shook me. "Tell me you're joking!"

"Take your hands off her!" Flag's voice was cold. "You're forgetting who outranks who, here."

"Andy, bro, back away," I heard Thibault urge. "You're losing it."

Andy seemed frozen as he was, his horrified eyes wide and staring.

"You'll hurt her," Logan whispered. "Let her go."

"Now!" Flag snarled.

Andy scoffed. "Who do you think you are?"

Flag lifted his chin arrogantly and looked down on Andy, who tall-but still couldn't match Flag's 6ft 3. "Watch your tone. I'm your commanding officer."

"Our relationship is a bit more complicated than commander and soldier, _sir_." Andy's hands dropped to his sides, and the sudden gush of blood through my waiting veins was almost painful.

I pulled my arm back and then let it snap forward, punching him in the mouth with as much power as I could force out of my body.

There was a crunching sound.

I cringed, and let Flag pull me back.

Flag was tensed in front of me as I looked up at Andy in a rage.

"What's the matter with you?!" Andy was rubbing his jaw like they did in the movies. How pathetic. He turned back to Flag, who rolled his arms muscles and clenched his fists.

"I'll kill you," Andy said, his voice so choked with rage that it was low as a whisper.

His eyes, focused on Flag, burned with fury.

"Let me guess… this is a friendly warning?" Flag asked sarcastically.

"Safe to say we're passed the friendly part." Andy snarled.

"Andy, now's a good time to leave." Thibault put his massive hand against Andy's chest and shoved.

"Fine," Andy said, defeated. He wasn't going to win against three Seals. Then he turned back to Flag. "But if you ever bring her back damaged again - and I don't care whose fault it is; I don't care if she merely trips, or if a missile falls out of the sky and hits her in the head - if you return her to me in less than the perfect condition that I left her in, you will be running with one leg."

Flag rolled his eyes. "Can you keep that promise?"

"I'll certainly try."

"Who's going back?" I muttered.

Flag growled as if he hadn't heard me. "And if you ever grab her again, I _will_ break your jaw for her," he promised, his voice still gentle and velvet and _deadly_.

"What if she wants to?" Andy drawled, arrogant.

"Hah!" I snorted.

"If that's what she wants, then I won't object." Flag shrugged, untroubled. "You might want to wait for her to _say_ it, rather than trust your interpretation of body language – but hey, it's _your_ face."

"I'm just worried about what you will do to her that Iran already hasn't. So make your move."

Flag puffed his chest. "I know, because you were an operative, you think you understand a team like ours, you don't. The Omega teams aren't like any other special forces. We finesse. We manipulate. We bend the world to achieve our objective.  
Why? Because we know we're the final option. You activate us, we get it done or we die trying. That's why our responsibility is so great. Who captured Ghani? Jaz did. Who executed Jarif? Jaz did. Who led Task Force X into a battle that saved the world? Jaz did.  
You are seriously under estimating your own sister. She has saved your life so many times-I can't tell you when or how… but running your mouth and barging in here isn't going to change her mind. This isn't some colt, or religion. It's a call of duty. And you have _no_ idea how valuable your sister is to this team.  
She is the reason global warfare was avoided. People like you? You're cannon fodder. _Your_ job, is to protect those who have no defence against the people trying to stop us doing _our_ job. But guess what? We _still_ stand by the people we love while doing it."

"Look, I don't want to cry here, but Jaz has been through a lot," Andy started.

"You're saying I can't do my job?" I blurted angrily.

"That's not what I'm trying to imply here," Andy replied.

I scoffed. "That's _exactly_ what you are implying." I snapped.

"These barracks are high security clearance. I suggest you leave before the MP (Military Police) finds out you broke protocols." Thibault said finally.

Andy glared at me and folded his arms. "You're willing to die for these people?"

I nodded. "Yes."

Andy's eyes flicked at Flag, then back at me. "And him? You love _him?_ "

I nodded again. "Yes."

Andy scoffed. "This is the man you _didn't_ want to work for, remember? This is the man responsible for Kowalski, and _you_. And now you trust him? More than me?"

With the anger rippling through my body, I glared at Andy. "He wasn't responsible for Mike, _I_ was! Mike took my flank to make sure Ghani didn't get away. It was my fault, so you can't blame Rick. And yes, I trust him with my life. _He_ was the one who got me out of... Iran."

"So this is how you abandon us? … You up and joined Special Ops! You chose this dangerous…"

The blood drained from my face, Flag now knew that Andy knew what my job really was. My heart skipped beat. If I told anyone what I was really doing, I would be kicked from the team and the Corps wouldn't never be able to forgive.

"Leave now." Flag cut him off mid-sentence, and his face was abruptly frightening - truly frightening. For a second, he looked . . . _dangerous._

He glared at Andy with vicious, unveiled loathing.

Andy raised his eyebrows, but made no other move.

They faced each other in silence for a long moment. More Seals gathered around us, watching.

I saw Dalton next to Craig - Dalton had one hand on Flag's shoulder, like he was holding him in place.

Flag held me tight to his side, angling his body so that he was still between me and Andy.

Andy's eyes flicked to Craig. "What the- Brian? You're on his side too? What's the fascination with these Top Tier teams, huh?"

Craig looked at the ground shyly.

Andy's eyes flashed back to Flag, dark and heavy. "Do you really think hurting her is better than protecting her?"

"She's tougher than you think," Flag said. "And she's been through worse."

Abruptly, Andy's expression shifted, and he was staring at Flag with an odd, speculative expression. His eyes narrowed like he was trying to do a difficult math problem in his head.

I felt Flag cringe. I glanced up at him, and his face was contorted in what could only be pain. For one ghastly moment, I was reminded of Iran, in the slaughterhouse being tortured.

The memory snapped me out of my near hysteria and put everything in perspective. Because I'd rather Jarif's henchmen killed me a hundred times over than watch Flag suffer without me again.

" You know in high school when you dream you're naked? It's like that right now." Taylor whispered to someone behind us.

"That's funny," Andy said, laughing as he watched Flag's face.

Flag winced, but smoothed his expression with a little effort. He couldn't quite hide the agony in his eyes.

I glanced, wide-eyed, from Flag's grimace to Andy's sneer.

"Overprotective, isn't he?" Andy said, talking just to me.

Flag glowered, and his lips pulled back from his teeth ever so slightly.

"Shut up, Andy," I said.

He laughed. "That sounds like a _yes_. Hey, if you ever feel like having a life again, you could come see me. I've still got your motorcycle in my garage."

This news distracted me. "You were supposed to sell that. You promised Dad you would." If I hadn't begged on Andy's behalf - after all, he'd put weeks of labour into both

motorcycles, and he deserved some kind of payback - Dad would have thrown my bike in a Dumpster. And possibly set that Dumpster on fire.

"Yeah, right. Like I would do that. It belongs to you, not me. Anyway, I'll hold on to it until you want it back." A tiny hint of the smile I remembered was suddenly playing around the edges of his lips.

"Andy . . ."

He leaned forward, his face earnest now, the bitter sarcasm fading. "I think I might have been wrong before, you know, about not being able to be close again. Maybe we could manage it, on my side of the line. Come see me." Andy dropped the antagonistic façade completely. It was like he'd forgotten Flag was there, or at least he was determined to act that way. "I miss you every day, Jaz. It's not the same without you."

"I know and I'm sorry, I just . . ."

He shook his head, and sighed. "I know. Doesn't matter, right? I guess I'll survive or something. Who needs family?" He grimaced, trying to cover the pain with a thin attempt at bravado.

Andy's suffering had always triggered my protective side. It was not entirely rational - Andy was hardly in need of any physical protection I could offer. But my arms, pinned beneath Flag's, yearned to reach out to him. To wrap around his big, warm waist in a silent promise of acceptance and comfort.

Flag's shielding arms had become restraints.

"Okay, get to work," a stern voice sounded behind us. "Move along, Mr. Craig."

"Go home, Andy," I whispered, anxious as soon as I recognized the Lieutenant General's voice.

Andy was from the USMC (United States Marine Corps) , but he might still get in trouble for trespassing or the equivalent. This was a Covert Operating Base.

Flag released me, taking just my hand and pulling me behind his body again.

Eric Blackburn pushed through the circle of spectators, his brows pressing down like ominous storm clouds over his small eyes.

"I mean it," he was threatening. "Grounding for anyone who's still standing here when I turn around again."

The audience melted away before he was finished with his sentence.

"Ah, Colonel. Do we have a problem here?"

"Not at all, Sir. We were just on our way to the medical wing."

"Excellent. I don't seem to recognize your friend." Blackburn turned his glower on Andy. "Are you a new Seal here?" his eyes scrutinized him, and I could see that he'd come to the same conclusion everyone else had: dangerous. A troublemaker.

"Nope," Andy answered, half a smirk on his broad lips.

"Then I suggest you remove yourself from Special Forces property at once, young man, before I call the Military Police."

Andy's little smirk became a full-blown grin. This grin was too bitter, too full of mocking to satisfy me. This wasn't the smile I'd been waiting to see.

Andy said, "Yes, sir," and snapped a military salute before he climbed on his bike and kicked it to a start right there outside the barracks. The engine snarled and then the tires squealed as he spun it sharply around. In a matter of seconds, Andy raced out of sight.

Blackburn gnashed his teeth together while he watched the performance.

"Mr. Flag, I expect you to ask your friend to refrain from trespassing again."

"He's no friend of mine, Sir, but I'll pass along the warning."

Blackburn pursed his lips. Flag's spotless record was clearly a factor in Blackburn's assessment of the incident. "I see. If you're worried about any trouble, I'd be

happy to -"

"There's nothing to worry about, Eric There won't be any trouble."

"I hope that's correct. Well, then. On to work. You, too, Miss Chapman."

Flag nodded, and pulled me quickly along toward the Medic building.

"It's all right now, Jaz." Flag murmured.

"Rick, I'm so sorry. I was stupid—"

"You did nothing wrong—"

"I have such a big mouth! Why would I… I shouldn't have let him get to me like that. What was I thinking?"

"Don't worry."

Then, as I thought about it, I realized the confrontation that had seemed so catastrophic to me had, in reality, been very quiet and short here in the barracks.

"Give me two seconds," I pleaded.

My insides were chaotic with panic and grief, but that didn't matter—only the outside mattered right now.

Putting on a good show was something I knew I had to master.

"How do you feel?" Flag asked as we walked away.

"Irritated."

He chuckled. "I meant your hand."

I shrugged. "I've had worse."

"True," he agreed, and frowned.

"Thanks for sticking up for me back there," I began, sounding like the gratitude was forced.

Flag nodded, a minuscule smile appearing on his stern face. "I do that I do."

"And what you said about standing by the people you love? I don't really have anyone that stands by me like that, and I don't mean just on the field, but in life. Just you."

"You know," he paused, and appeared to be chewing his lip in thought. "I wanted to discuss with you-something I wanted to ask, actually. But we don't seem to have much time to ourselves, do we?"

My heart stopped beating.

He gauged my expression for a second. His eyes were cautious–he spoke slowly. "What would you think about moving in with me? 'cause I got to say, I've thought about it a lot, and while you were in Iran, I went crazy not being able to see you, not being able to be with you."

I stared at him, waiting… "Okay. What's the punch line?"

He sighed. "You're wounding my ego, Jaz. I just asked you to move in, and you think it's a joke."

"Rick, please be serious. Aren't you even worried that people think you're too old for me?"

"I'm thirty eight, not one hundred."

I looked away, out the dark window, trying to control the panic before it gave me away. "Look, moving out of the base isn't exactly that high on my list of priorities, you know?"

He inhaled deeply. "Please don't tell me that you're afraid of the commitment," his voice was disbelieving, and I understood what he meant.

"That's not it exactly," I hedged. "I'm… afraid of taking the leap and it not working out."

He leaned toward me; his night-dark eyes melted and smouldered and shattered my concentration. " _Please_ , Jaz?" he breathed.

I forgot how to breathe for a moment. When I recovered, I shook my head quickly, trying to clear my suddenly clouded mind.

"Would this have gone better if I'd had time to ask you properly? But I really don't want to wait. Just think about it for a few days, okay? But keep in mind that you and I are sort of a package deal already."

"Rick–"

"Think it over," he insisted. "Not that it matters. If you say yes, I don't need heaven."

The Silver Bullet wasn't exactly busy Thursday night. It was just Flag, Nicole, Thibault and I at the bar, sipping away on the most expensive whiskey the bar keep could muster.

We had been chatting idly, going over some new tech supplies which could be introduced to our arsenal.

It wasn't late- but the chill in the winter air whooshed through the door when it opened. In a common place like the DEVGRU bar, I didn't bother turning around.

That was until Ellis tugged on my jacket, and forced me to look.

It was Andy again, striding toward us with purpose in each step. He was frowning, deep in thought. His speculative expression stoked the flames of my smouldering anger at the same time that it worried me. But he was looking at someone other than me.

His eyes flashed to me for less than a second as he opened his mouth but his eyes were stuck on the Colonel. "Oh, I'm sorry, this a bad time?" His voice was disdainful.

I stared at his face, searching for any signs of the anger or remorse I feared.

I scoffed and snatched the half full bottle of whiskey from the counter. "Nope," my emotionless voice was cracking, showing the anger through it. I tried to erase the anger from my system entirely, but it was hard, knowing that Andy was so set on starting a fight with Flag. And without another word, I turned on my heels and strode to a booth on the other side of the room. I looked at Nicole, to be sure she left, too. It wasn't my fight anymore, and I was sure the problem was no longer me.

"Why are you here?" Flag demanded as Ellis and I sat down, backs to the bar but still in earshot.

"Because I'm her brother. Because you are too close, and it will tear her apart." Andy replied, his voice firm but it had softened since earlier this week. I had to give him the benefit of the doubt, since daring to anger the Colonel just to check up on me. "Kowalski, Jaz. They were close. After he went down she came apart at the seams. She believed, she was responsible so she convinced herself she didn't deserve to survive.

I know what you are."

Flag didn't remained silent, but I heard the tap of his glass hitting the counter.

"I know that men and women in harm's way grow closer." Andy sighed heavily. "Promise to treat her with decency and fairness. And whatever this insanity is in Iran; you keep her well away from it."

"What is my word to you?" Flag croaked in an unwavering tone.

"Then I'll make my own promise. Hurt her, and I'll kill you." Andy spoke again with firm conviction.

Flag scoffed. "You think you can keep that"

"I do. You will take care of Jaz. Or you will answer to me." Every word was layered with command, but it couldn't touch Flag. Alpha blood ran undiluted in his veins.

"She doesn't need me to save her. She-is-an-elite-operative." Flag said, making each word clear. "She doesn't need me to hold her hand, okay? The Jaz I know doesn't flinch, she's stone cold badass and makes even _me_ look bad." Flag paused. "To tell you the truth, any other commanding officer but me couldn't handle her, even _if_ she came with instructions."

Flag and Andy chuckled in agreement.

Ellis looked at me with a huge grin, clenching her teeth together in excitement. "Did you hear that?" she whispered hoarsely.

"Nope." I lied, emptying the contents of my glass into my mouth and pouring another. I wasn't one for compliments, but my heart warmed up when Flag's smooth voice made it sound like I _was_ some kind of hero.

"Yeah, I've been told this. It doesn't change my mind, because she is still my sister." Andy replied.

"Are we done here?" Flag sighed impatiently.

Andy went quiet. "Yeah. I guess so. Remember what I said, okay? Take care of her."

What surprised me the most about all this, was the fact Flag _hadn't_ egged Andy on to start a fight this time. He had made it through the conversation without decking anyone, so I'd say his people skills were improving.

The primitive core of my soldier-self tensed for the battle of supremacy.

I focused all my energy to control that reaction. I would not fall into a pointless,

destructive fight with Andy. He was my brother still, even though I was rejecting him.

"Trig, aren't you interested in what they're saying at all? Because I can hear them perfectly."

I remained unmoved, except for my eyes, which were peering up at Ellis through my brows. Once I was convinced everyone was on the same page, I slammed the glass on the table and got up, grabbing my jacket from the chair beside me.

"What do you mean?"

"Maybe I'm hoping Rick'll get irritated and rip Andy's head off," I suggested.

Ellis snorted. "What's going on? Are you two keeping secrets from me?" she demanded, incredulous.

"I'll explain later," I said self-consciously—but I didn't really plan on it.

I loved Andy insanely, of course. But now that I'd had a chance to realize that he was

really home, that his defection was only a ruse because he had to believe that

I'd abandoned him. I was beginning to feel pretty irritated with Andy. He had some

explaining to do.

Flag sighed. "Just get it off your chest, Andy."

"Where are you going?" Ellis snapped, most likely upset with me.

"I'm going to bed." I flexed my hand to make sure it was still operational since I had punched Andy in the face with a few days ago. Just to make sure it still worked in case he tried something again.

I headed straight for the door, ignoring Andy completely.

But, he had a different idea. He turned in his seat and sniffed. "Jaz, I'm sorry." The apology was sincere, no doubt about it, though there was still an angry twist to his features.

"Why did you come here? I don't want apologies from you, Andy."

"I know," he whispered. "But I couldn't leave things the way I did before. That was

horrible. I'm sorry."

I shook my head wearily. "I don't understand."

"I know. I want to explain–" He broke off suddenly, his mouth open, almost like something

had cut off his air. Then he sucked in a deep breath. "But I can't explain," he said, still angry.

"I wish I could." He paused. "Hey, we're cool, right?"

I hesitated in the open doorway, not sure what to do now. It was better right there, with a

little bit of breathable air blowing in from outside. "Yeah, we're cool, it's just my personality."

"I'm glad. I haven't slept, knowing we were fighting. But for what it's worth, I was just angry that you kept a secret like this from me."

I hoped my expression didn't look guilty.

"Something you felt like you had to keep from our father?" he pressed. "Something you won't even talk about with me? Not even now?"

I felt my eyes tighten. I didn't answer his question, though I knew he would take that as a

confirmation.

"Can you understand that I might have questions about this kind of… situation?" He was struggling again, seeming to fight for the right words. "Sometimes, loyalty gets in the way of what you want to do. Sometimes, it's not your secret to tell."

So, I couldn't argue with that. He was exactly right–I had a secret that wasn't mine to tell, yet a secret I was legally bound to protect. A secret that, suddenly, he seemed to know all about.

"I don't know why you came here, Andy, if you were just going to give me riddles instead of answers."

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "This is so frustrating."

We looked at each other for a long moment in the dark room, both our faces hopeless.

Ellis had stealthily moved up to the bar and took her seat to Thibault, who was trying pointlessly to ignore the situation completely.

Flag merely poured himself another whisky and sipped it quietly while keeping his eyes firmly Andy and I, only moving his eyes and the hand around his glass.

"The part that kills me," he said abruptly, "is that you moved on with this team and you treat them better than your own family."

"You need to understand, real quick." I started, but Andy cut me off.

"The army has changed since I started. Now it's all about covert ops, intel gathering, the CIA accomplishes half the time. It's a new world. I'm not sure what I add to it anymore."

From the corner of my eye, I saw Flag nod once, absently, not looking in my

direction.

"You don't know it, do you?" I asked. "You're knee deep in PTSD."

"That has nothing to do with anything." Andy growled

Flag grinned at Andy. Perhaps he had made the same diagnosis? "PTSD can hit you when you least expect it. But you can't deny it. It is about coping. You should talk to mental health, get the help you need before you do something else you regret."

"I hear you, Colonel." Andy mumbled. "Lima, Charlie." He turned back to me. "I'm just trying to protect you."

"Well," I piped. "The girl you're trying to protect doesn't exist, so give up, yeah?" I glared back at all three men who stared back at me. "And, since I don't have a penis, I don't see much point joining this pissing contest."

"Good. Now, if you don't mind, my team and I need to be going to bed. I suggest you do the same." Flag said to Andy, stern-eyed.

"Roger that," Andy confirmed, turning back to me as he rose from his seat. "Take care, Jaz, and don't forget the little people. But I ask one thing."

I waited.

"Don't change into another heartless operative." Andy begged.

As if I needed - or even had room for - one more thing to worry about.

I'd always known that I would be different. I hoped that I would be as strong as Flag said I would be. Strong and fast and, most of all, skillful. Someone who could stand amongst the Alpha Dogs and feel like she belonged there.

I'd been trying not to think too much about the other things that I would be.  
Wild.

Bloodthirsty.  
Maybe I would not be able to stop myself from killing people. Strangers, people who had never harmed me.

But, in truth, I could handle that part - because I trusted Flag, trusted him absolutely, to keep me from doing anything I would regret.

And I would do whatever it took to be a good person. A good Special Forces Operator. That thought would have made me giggle, if not for this new worry.

Because, if I really were somehow like that - like the nightmarish images of Seals that Andy had painted in my head - could I possibly be _me_? And if all I wanted was to kill people, what would happen to the things I wanted _now_?

Usually, it seemed kind of silly. There weren't many civilian experiences that I worried about missing.

As long as I got to be with Rick, what else could I ask for?

There was nothing in this world that I wanted more than him.

Would that, _could_ that, change?

Was there a civilian experience that I was _not_ willing to give up?

"You guys read the paper?" Thibault bit into an apple sloppily while holding the morning news up to his face.

Flag grunted. "Do I want to know?"

I shook my head. "Who cares? The media knows Tier Ones don't talk to reporters so whatever they made up is irrelevant."

Thibault nodded, still reading. "Nice photo though,"  
"Just be glad you didn't have to go." I replied.  
"Thank Fuck for that," he chuckled. "Hey, I heard Colonel offered you leave?"  
"Guys," Craig came running into the barracks. "Oh, hey, Trig."  
"You're up early," I accused, sipping a cup of coffee.  
"Yeah, well, you know me, I'm a light sleeper. It's been a ages since our last op and I'm chomping at the bit. Thought I'd go for a run. It's not like we have been  
required in Iran, Am I right?" He held up his hand to high five me.  
"Hell yeah," I obliged, hitting his hand with what I thought was unnecessary force. But Craig didn't seem to notice.  
Hayes came trudging in from the sleeping quarters. "What you doing up, Trig? You can't sleep?" he asked drowsily.

"I thought I was being quiet. Sorry." I replied weakly.  
"No, it was Thibault swearing that woke me up actually." Hayes stopped when he saw Craig and Taylor's faces. "Hey guys, you too?"  
Taylor shrugged and threw his apple core at the bin, missing. "Dammit," he cursed.

Hayes sat at the table I was perched on, not caring about my complete lack of manners.

"There's no shame in taking him up on it, right? Flag's offer to let you rotate home early. I mean, what, we got four weeks left of this deployment anyway." Thibault continued.

I scoffed. "The last thing I want to do is go home."

"Yeah, well, if you're gonna stay, which warms my heart, can you guys please be quiet? You're making a racket out here, I'm trying to sleep." Dalton wandered in from the same door Hayes came from.

Thibault hooted. "That's rich, coming from you."

"What do you mean?"

Hayes and Thibault made the most horrible sounding snore noises that I couldn't help but laugh.

Dalton frowned. "I don't snore."

"Get out of here." Thibault laughed.

"How would you know either way?" Craig replied.

Dalton didn't look impressed. "I would know if I - Why are you all up?"

"Why are you up? " Hayes added.

"Well, believe it or not, people speaking approximately two feet from where I sleep makes quality rest a little bit difficult." Dalton sighed.

"Dude, really? You call sleep _quality rest_?." Hayes chuckled.

"No, seriously guys, just keep it down. You don't want to wake Flag up." Dalton mumbled.

"Oh, please." Thibault grunted.

"I've known Rick for at least a decade. That man will sleep through a jackhammer." Taylor joined in. "In fact, the only thing that'll wake him up is probably the…" Flag's phone pinged from the desk on the other side of the room.

Footsteps followed, and Flag walked in, dazed. He picked up the phone. "Go for Flag…. Oh don't worry about it." He wandered off, not looking at anyone.

"You mad he's back in charge, Trig?" Craig looked up from untying his sneakers.

I shook my head.

Craig threw his sneakers beside the door. "My personal opinion is, Flag has a completely new team. This one works as it is. Why break up something that's not broken?"

"I didn't ask for your opinion," I grunted.

"I say let Flag have the green team." Hayes added.

I sighed. "Take it up with Blackburn."

Hayes sniffed. "Flag is the rightful commander, not Trig. But I don't agree with his methods of selection."

" _You_ wouldn't," Taylor chuckled.

Flag walked back in, silent. "Trig, got a minute?"

I put my cup down and slid off the table and followed Flag into the sleeping quarters. "What?"

"You used to be on Force Recon right?" He asked, his eyes looking down at me, but his chin still level. Why was he talking to me as the Colonel right now?

Something was wrong.

"Yeah…." I replied, confused. "Why?"

"They were deployed to Afghanistan a few days ago."

I nodded slowly. "So?"

"Force Recon ran into some…" he said slowly, then paused.

"Casualties? Did the helo crash or something?"

"We're still in the early stages of understanding the situation. But we gotta go. Now." His face was grim. "Blackburn needs a small irregular force out there ASAP."

"That's us." I nodded, grabbing my rook sack.

Flag put his hand against my shoulder and stopped me from walking out the door. "Brass hasn't cleared for duty yet."

"Brass hasn't, or _you_ haven't?" I accused.

Flag stared at me seriously. "If you're trying to convince me that you're squared away by running your mouth, you're not helping your argument."

I sighed and backed away, seeing no way to reason with him. Flag always wins.

"Look, do I want you to come with us? Of course I do. But that's why we've got procedures in place, so that guys like me aren't making decisions that we're not qualified to make."

Thibault and Hayes stood in the door way, curious as to what all the shouting was. Taylor and Dalton weren't far behind. Hayes gave me a pitied look.

"Now, I put you in harm's way and you're not ready, something happens to you I'd never forgive myself."

I let out a sharp sigh. "For the record," I stared at him square in the eye as I turned to walk out of the barracks. "This blows." I threw my rook sack on my bunk with force and stormed out, bumping shoulders with Hayes.

"Come on Flag, at least let her go to the brief?" Taylor said lowly.  
Flag sighed. "Taylor, its Force Recon. Do you really think she needs to get amped up for a mission she's not joining?"

Taylor fell silent and looked at me over his shoulder. "She needs to know, Flag. You can't keep her from it, she will find out anyway. Trig is like the terminator, she'll make sure she gets in."

Flag licked his lips and thought carefully. "Fine. Briefing only. But you make sure," he pointed at me. "Blackburn is aware she isn't deploying."

"Thank you all for coming at such short notice," Blackburn paced the situation room as he normally did. But this time, his face was the same as Flag's-devastated. "I know you're all wondering, so here it is." He looked at Nicole.

Nicole sighed. "Last night at approximately Oh-one-hundred hours local time, MARSOC (US Marine Corps Forces Special Operations Command) Team Force Recon was on their second mission of the night. The follow on operation in the Khush Gumbad neighbourhood of Jalalabad. The target was a private residence. They breached the structure, made entry. Seconds later, there was an explosion."  
We watched a night vision video of ten white figures entering a square building. There was a short period of relative quiet, then suddenly the night exploded with light for a few seconds.  
The shell of the building was all that remained, surrounded by sparks from the fire.

"What are we talking about bodyguards with S-vests or the whole place just rigged?" I asked.

"Yeah, probably all that." Hayes added.

"Survivors? I asked."

"None that we know of." Nicole replied.

The air in my lungs escaped and I felt winded. The team I served with, gone. Davis, Smith, Norton... I stared for another minute, shocked. Neither one seemed to notice. I could feel something, panic maybe, building up in my chest.

Thibault let out a dismayed groan and threw back his head as if he didn't believe what he just heard.

"So you're telling me that all ten guys are dead?" Taylor asked.

Nicole nodded and took micro steps backward, expecting someone to explode in a fit of rage.  
Thibault was already on the edge, and from I could tell, I wasn't going to hold it in much longer.

"The casualty notification teams are en-route."

"Dammit." Taylor muttered.

"Uh, the MARSOC squadron is now down a full team. Which, as you know, is an untenable situation." Blackburn said quietly. "To remedy it, Command has asked that any willing Seals are wheels up in two hours. Any tidying up on the personal front, now's the time to do it. We need you focused on mission."

So much had changed, and so abruptly. It made me feel a little bit dizzy, like I was standing on an edge, a precipice somewhere much too high.

I didn't want to think about that anymore.

I marched out of the room, holding my breath as long as I could-until I was alone. But I didn't get that far. No, I didn't even get across the hall. My fist launched at the wall.  
The actual pain of the punch was left far behind on the surface of the wall and a sickening numbness raged through the muscles in my stomach. It was like someone sinking a grappling iron into my gut.  
I should be used to this loss, the grief-after fourteen years in the corps I never cried over anyone's death except Kowalski. But this was an entire squadron. I heard someone come up behind me, and I blinked the glitch away. I stared down at my blood stained knuckles. I spun around looking upwards at a concerned Danny Hayes.  
"We'll get them. I promise."  
"I need to be on this op." I started, but Hayes cut me short.  
"Flag made the call, Trig. It's for your own good. As soon as you get cleared you can join us. Alright? I will cover for you."

I shook my head. "You don't understand. Force Recon needs payback."

"I know they do, but the best option is to say here for now. As soon as you get the clear, Flag will have you in there. He gets it, okay. If you were him, you would do the same."

I scoffed. "You friends now?"

"No- not at all. We're both on your side. We want you back on the team. What other choices do we have if you haven't been squared away Trig?"  
I grit my teeth and tried not to over react. Flag and the team were still in brief, and didn't need to worry about me. "Yeah. You better get back in there. I'll catch up with you before you go." I gave him a faux smile.  
"You don't need to pretend," he said.  
"I'm not pretending." I snapped.  
He leaned his hand on the window ledge and glared at me in disbelief. "Trig, it's only me here. It's okay to angry or sad. You lost your friends."  
I lifted my chin arrogantly. "Yeah I'm angry. I'm angry we lost ten good men, I'm angry I can't do anything about it and I'm angry I can't go and get the assholes that did this. You can't stand there and tell me it's okay." I wheeled around and made a beeline for the gym. If the Brass were determined to keep me off the op, I wanted to be really good shape in case they changed their mind.


	25. Chapter 25 It's all personal

You started off in the army dreading the prospect of actual combat, but little by little the hard training and discipline of DEVGRU made you start wishing for it. And here it was.

 _War._  
The real thing.  
Only, I was held back. There was no escape from the reality that was.  
The loss of my former team mates, and the lives of ten perfectly good men.  
 _Why would anybody want to go to war?_ It would be like that. _You want to find out if you can really do the job._ They'd been tested and proven.  
It was another generation of Seals turn now.

I knew I was fully capable, having enough to time to recover from festering stab wounds.  
I didn't care for our President, but hey- I signed a contract-no matter who it was behind the big desk.  
My fists pelted the punching bag, thinking nothing of my gashed knuckles. The pain didn't bother me-not as much as my heart aching for those guys MARSOC had just lost.  
A man in urban fatigues walked up beside me, hands behind his back. His hair was grey-only his face wasn't wrinkled and war-torn like most men on base.  
I turned to look at him, bothered by his presence. One arm kept punching the bag slowly, but not forcefully. "Can I help you?" I asked bluntly.  
"I come bearing gifts," He handed me a piece of paper.  
My eyes panned the paper, seeing my name and the word _accepted._ It made me grin. "Great. I'm cleared to do my job again?"  
He folded his arms, saying nothing.  
I turned back to the punching bag. "Sweet." I punched a couple times, but the man didn't leave. He wanted something in return. "Wait, are you the _shrink_?"  
"I'm Captain Martin. Or you can call me Zander, if you prefer."  
My eyebrows shot up. "Zander?" I looked at him in pity. "Didn't your parents like you?" I turned back to the punching bag.  
He didn't reply.  
I left one fist on the punching bag as I stared back in repulsion. "Oh god, is this a thing? I have to talk to you so I can keep those?" I looked at my report in his hand.  
"Nope," he sighed. "Before I became a counsellor I was on a team like yours. You don't have to do anything to earn these papers. I read your file, I believe you're okay, but I'd like to talk to you about what happened in Iran. If you'd like to call me, and if not, maybe just some small talk and a coffee?"

I rolled my eyes and pointed at the coffee machine at the back of the room. "Coffee." I went back to my punching bag.  
"Look, I know your team is on a mission and I know how much that sucks, so… what do you say?"  
Arrogantly, I walked in front of him and turned my attention back to the punching bag and continued to pound it.  
"Can I join you?"  
I ignored his question. "Said you were on a team. What happened?" I asked.  
"Some Syrian ass-wipe took a shot at me." He turned away from me, showing a large melted scar on his neck. "I forgot to duck."  
I cringed. "Oooh."  
He exhaled heavily. "Yeah. Lucky to be alive. Although, for the first year, you couldn't have convinced me of that if you tried. I felt sorry for myself. And then finally one day I realized, it was it was like in that movie _Shawshank_."  
I looked at him, confused. Where was this going?

"I had to get busy living or get busy dying. So I decided helping people like myself was the best way to stay sane." He fell silent as I took off my gloves and sat on the couch. "Did they hurt you? I read the brief."

I looked at him, not wanting to reveal a single detail. There are some things better off unsaid.

"I'm not asking a piece of paper; I'm asking you. I'm a survivor, Chapman, I know. I know no matter how well you got through it, there's something that got you. Maybe not then, maybe it's now. But the thing is, better to say it out loud now to me than let it haunt you. So? What is it that is haunting you?"

I pretended to ignore him.

"What do you want to talk about about?"

"I don't know, it's your nickel."

A bone-deep tremor that felt suspiciously like panic ran through me. Desperately, I reached down into the paralysis for some sign of impending recovery. My nervous system was still reeling. I could feel my eyes drying out from the lack of a blink reflex.

I couldn't walk as slowly as I should as I darted across the room. If anyone had been looking at me, they might have suspected that there was something not right about the way I moved. Only Zander was here to pay attention to me. There was no where to else to go, and now I had to face the music. I didn't like to think of myself having to hide. How cowardly that sounded. But it was unquestionably the case now. I didn't have enough discipline left to be around anyone right now. Focusing so much of my efforts on not killing someone left me no resources to resist the others. What a waste that would be. If I were to give in to the monster, I might as well make it worth the defeat.

Through smearing vision, I watched Zander following me to the couch, but seating himself in empty chair opposite me.

I didn't answer. I couldn't think of a way to protest, but I instantly knew that I wanted to. I followed along unwillingly, trying to think through the panic. It was what I need, I reminded myself.  
The chance to talk it all through.  
So why was the panic choking me?

I gnawed on my lip for a second. Was this a secret, or not? And if it was, then how much did the shrink know?  
Would the doctors and surgeons tell anyone else the extent of the damage so they were able to figure it out? Of course they would.

The wounds were no longer fresh, nor did they bother me, but still, i fought the urge to place hand on them defensively.

"You don't need to see me like this. Go away."

"Not likely, Chapman." Zander replied anxiously.

At the same time, a sudden pain twisted in my stomach, almost like the aftershock of catching a punch in the gut.

My head swam, but I fought the spinning. I would have to get used to this, if I were going to attempt any kind of normality. I took another deep, burning breath

It was too hard to keep secrets, I decided.

He couldn't see into my mind, though, the way he saw into everyone else's.  
Who knew why—some strange glitch in my brain that made it immune to all the extraordinary and frightening things some terrorists could do.

It was just too embarrassing to consider the alternative. Maybe just give him what he needed to hear, i decided.

Zander hesitated.

I felt something drop, like a tiny piece of ice thawing from the frozen block of my central nervous system. My eyelids scraped slowly down over my eyes, once, and up again. The cleansing contact brought tears.

Zander saw it and stiffened.

The fingers of my right hand twitched and curled. I felt the beginnings of tension in the muscles of my stomach. My eyes moved.

Zander's face stayed impassive. His eyes lifted from me. "It's okay, nothing leaves this room," he said loudly.

I was coming back. Something was forcing my nerves back into sparking, fizzing life. I could feel the shakes setting in, and with them a soupy, suffocating quality to the air in my lungs that meant I was beginning to gain control. My limbs were moulded in lead and my hands felt as if I was wearing thick cotton gloves with a low electric current fizzing through them. My options were limited.

I sighed, trying not to over-do the troubled farce i put on for his benefit. "I'm terrified that I could lose them. You know, being grabbed, being tortured, I can handle that. The Corps hated me the second I walked in here a girl. And then I was assigned to Alpha Dogs. I was wanted. I was in a team who _wanted_ me. Then I lost my best friend, I remember how I felt when I did. The Colonel was there-he was the first one to see me as a Tier One operator, and not a woman. Up until then, I felt nothing. I would lose a team mate and not feel a thing. My team were all there for me after the attack in Midway City. They cared. And when my guys rescued me…. I just…" I looked down and tried to breath without my chin shaking. What came out of my mouth was sounding more like an open confession than a lie.

"It was the first time anyone came to help you. First time in your whole life." His last words died as he realised the truth on my face.

"Yup." I nodded, not wanting to say anymore.  
"You might lose them, Trig. You know that now, I mean in your gut. And I get that is the worst feeling in the world. It's like it's like falling but hitting no bottom."

"So what do you do?" I croaked.

"You get used to it. A little each day. And maybe you find a way to think about the other side. Anytime you find yourself scared you might lose 'em, focus on how lucky it is to have 'em. That's what I do." Martin said, keeping his eyes on me.

"Yeah. Thanks."

Martin handed me the clearance papers. "No charge. It will pass, soldier. And if it doesn't, you know where to find me."

"Hey, uh, don't take it personally." My eyes darted at the punching bag. "No one beats me."

Martin laughed. "We'll see."

o*o*o*o*o*o

"So good." Adam McGuire approved his horse shoe throw.

"So good. We're rocking it." I answered with a grin.

"You go." He said.

I threw it, but it landed just beside the stake, and fell off the pit made from wooden pallets. I grunted in disappointment.

"Coming out a little wonky there though, I mean for being a sniper, I expected a little more." McGuire, had come to grow on me in the last few days. He reminded me a lot of how Andy was before the Afghani desert drove him over the edge. The newly appointed tier one looked alot like him, too. The shaggy black, curly hair and the cropped but well-groomed beard covering the childish shape of his face. His eyes were still young as he towered a little above me, sniggering.

Amir Al Raisani basked in the sun beside Flag, who seemed deeply focused on his Chinese takeaway. He watched McGuire and I fooling around, and sat on the picnic table, one boot leaning on the seat. "I don't know, Boss. All those years, I thought working undercover was the hardest thing I'd ever do, but this… this doing nothing is harder."

"Amir, you're still new, buddy." Flag mumbled.

"Ten servicemen dead, and here we sit two weeks later, like it didn't even happen."

"Do me a favour." Flag sounded faintly regretful, like someone who'd had to put down a good book just before the climax. "Look out there. What's happening? You got Jaz and McG talking smack, bitching about horseshoes, you got Hayes talking to his family. That's not ignoring what happened. Okay? It's called moving on, which if you're gonna be on a team like ours, that's exactly what you gotta do."

"Even after Afghanistan?" Amir asked, his busy eyebrows furrowing over his deep-set eyes.

"Yeah, especially after that. Listen, the fantasy is that we go rogue, we go out there, we grab the guy that did this, and we get our revenge. In reality, we follow orders. In reality, our job is always the next mission. We are not the investigators, Amir. We're the tip of the spear."

"You know, where I come from, throwing horseshoes was called c _orn hole_." I said to McGuire, who was retrieving the horseshoes from the pallet.

He looked at me suspiciously. "Bullshit."

"I'm not shitting you. It's practically the same." I argued.

"Who would even all it that? Bullshit, you made it up." McGuire turned to Flag, one horseshoe in each hand. "Colonel, can you please settle this argument? Is there or is there not a game called _corn hole_?"

I laughed as Flag merely raised one eyebrow nonchalantly.

"Are you sure we're the tip of the spear?" Amir said, skeptically.

Flag's phone rang loudly, and we all turned to look at it. We knew what it meant. We dropped everything and headed to the gator cages.

"Corn hole, come on." McGuire repeated as he followed the rest of us toward the barracks.

"What did the new guy want?" I asked Flag lowly, folding my arms.

Flag sighed. "Same as the rest of us. Justice." He punched in the answer key on the laptop, and stood over the table as Blackburn's face appeared. "Lieutenant General Blackburn."

"Flag, gear up. We need your team in Ukraine." Blackburn said.

We crowded around the screen, and saw a photo of an auburn-haired woman.

"Cassie Conner, CIA officer out of Ukraine, sent an SOS twelve minutes ago. Now she's operating out of a warehouse in Sverdlovsk, its deep in disputed territory. Whole place is crawling with Pro-Russian rebels."

"A direct attack on a CIA officer? That's a major violation of the unwritten rules of espionage." Amir interrupted.

McGuire crossed his arms. "We'll make sure to send them to bed with no dinner."

"Is this mission official or unofficial?" Mike Dalton asked, another one of the new Alpha Team rainbows (new recruit).

"Officially unofficial." Flag replied. "We hop on a One-thirty across the Black Sea; we helo to the target. ETA a hundred ten mikes, so let's get after it."

UKRAINE

"Ms. Conner, we're friendlies. Okay? I'm just gonna ask you a few questions. Is it all right if my medic examines you while I do?" Flag asked the woman, sitting on the floor, leaning against a desk as she cowered away.

Dead bodies were littered on the floor around her, which made me surprised she was alive.

"Yeah." She nodded. Her long, stringy red hair clung to the sweat on her freckled face as her eyes panned our faces.

I put my pack down beside her, and inspected the gunshot wound to her side. Her white shirt was soaked but she had already bandaged it. "She knows what she's doing. Patched herself up pretty good."

"All right. What is the name of your neighbour's dog?" Flag asked, scribbling in a notebook.

"Lola."

"What street was your high school on?"

"West Oak." She looked up at Flag, relief on her face. "My turn-ons are long walks on the beach. My turn-offs are people who kill my friends."

I looked at the women slowly, raising one eyebrow in surprise. _Was she serious?_

"Oh, you too?" Flag laughed.

"Okay, pulse is strong." I informed the Colonel. "One through-and-through in the side. Missed her vitals. Lucky girl." I began to write her stats on a strip of white Velcro., dismissing my earlier thought.

"I'd say it was more than luck. Girl's got skills." Dalton replied, taking photos of the soldiers she had shot down.

"Let's get this on you. All right, she's good to go." I wrapped the Velcro around her wrist.

Flag grabbed Cassie's arm and pulled her off the floor "Mortem One, we're coming out. We have one PAX for immediate dust-off (Personnel for emergency evacuation)."

"I got it, I got it." Cassie snatched her arm from Flag, and she stared down at the bodies of her two co-workers as they lay on the floor in a pool of blood.

Cassie was in shock as her eyes focused on her dead colleagues. His skin was pasty pale. She obviously lost a tremendous amount of blood. It was amazing that she was still alive, given the level of devastation in the room.

Desks had been moved ajar of the rows they would have sat in, and papers were scattered to the floor with the chaos. Some entire folders were coated in blood. To someone who hadn't been exposed to a firefight, I'd say she was going into shock as her eyes widened.

"All right, hey, Ms. Conner? You did good, all right? Now let's get you out of here. Come on." I put my hand on her shoulder and guided her out the door.

Dalton began grabbing folders on the desk, stacking them in his arm. "Proceeding with our visual sweep. Cleansing safe house."

"Ellis, does it look like anything was taken to you?" Blackburn's voice resounded in my ear. I readjusted the earpiece.

"Impossible to say, but the high value stuff, laptops, lock cabinets, those all seem to be there." Ellis replied.

Blackburn paused. "You hit an unsanctioned CIA station, you kill or incapacitate everyone, but you don't take the treasure? Why?"

Ellis hummed. "Maybe she scared them off."

"Bringing Conner out." Flag said.

I helped Cassie into the chopper, and stood back several yards, taking cover behind a brick building.

"We're in Conner's bird. We're sending it now."

The chopper took off, heading away from the city.

"All right, Mortem One is outbound." Flag said. "Let's finish sterilizing the station so we can get the Hell out of here." He trudged back toward the building, and I stayed by the Landing Zone, keeping the area secure.

"All classified info in flames." Dalton replied over the comm.

There was the distant sound of bullets rattling off in the chopper's direction.

Amir looked at me as I tried to see what was under attack, but I could only see about fifteen yards down in either direction, and all I saw was buildings.

It would most likely crash-land right there on the road. Either way, the men on the ground would get to Cassie before we do.

There was indistinct radio panic. "Colonel, Mortem One is down! I repeat, Mortem One is down! Looks like it landed half a click to your South-Southeast."

Blackburn overlapped Nicole's. "Alpha One, get me a visual on that crash."

"Yeah, we got eyes on. Sounded like a 50 cal brought them down." Flag replied, marching back toward me.

"This is insane." Amir said to himself, taking position behind me. "First they hit a station, now they take out one of our birds? Even unmarked, that's practically an act of war."

"What the hell's going on here?" Craig shouted.

"The Russians are doing whatever they can to get their hands on Cassie Conner, that's what the hell is going on. The question is why?" I replied, gripping the metal of my rifle.

"All right Mortem 2, stay away from that LZ, and out of range of those 50 cals." Flag instructed the second chopper that was meant to extract us.

"Copy, Mortem Actual. Mortem 2 is out." The pilot responded.

Flag lead us back into the building. "Okay, everybody change out, stash gear. We're gonna head to the crash site on foot."

The guys prepared with a heady mix of hope and dread. They ran through last-minute mental checklists, saying prayers, triple-checking weapons, rehearsing their precise tactical choreography, performing little rituals... whatever it was that prepared them for battle. They all knew this mission might get hairy.

I kept watch on the door as they guys took off their armoured vests, and put on civilian clothes. They began to switch weapons, checking them for fresh mags.

I took off my vest and shoved on a jacket, taking only my handgun. Then I followed them outside.

It wasn't long before we arrived at the wreckage, still burning. Locals were crowing around, trying to get a good look at the pilots who were slumped over themselves.

Around the wreckage they found pools and trails of blood, torn bits of clothing, and many spent bullet shells, but no weapons and no sign of Cassie Conner. Taylor and Dalton searched the huts around the crash site, demanding information about the downed American through a translator, but no one offered any.

Flag and Amir began speaking Russian, yelling at the men who were slowly backing away from the chopper.

I stared at the wreck, as the Seals began to surround it.

It looked eerily similar to the Chinook-1 in Midway City.

The rotors had pounded themselves off on the asphalt, and the cabin was unnaturally tilted to one side. The tail was missing completely.

I felt green.

Panic overwhelmed me, closed my throat.

"Chapman?" Hayes yelled, turning back and pacing toward me.

I couldn't answer, I just stared at him in horror.

The fear was squeezing my chest, making it hard to breathe.

He deliberated for a short second, and he began talking so fast that I couldn't understand the words. It was over in half a minute. He started pulling me toward the chopper.

"Come back to me, Trig." he whispered when he felt my resistance. "You're okay."

I let him drag me along then, too panicked to think clearly.

Flag met my frightened eyes with a smug grin, which suddenly turned to confusion. "Jaz!"

"I-I think she's having an attack!" Hayes yelled, right beside my ear. "Trig! Talk to me!" He shook me as his face moved directly in front of me, blocking my view of Flag running toward me.

"N-no," I stammered finally, coming out of my stupor. "I-I'm fine."

Hayes frowned. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," I shrugged his arm off. "Yeah, I just drifted off." My head was spinning. I was too lightheaded to control my wildly random thoughts. I frowned at him.

Hayes watched me carefully. "There's no time to consider you sitting out." It was easy to read in his face how difficult the words were for him.

I took a deep breath and tried to make my tone more reasonable. "I'm sorry, I'm okay now, I promise. We can't afford to lose focus." I _was_ sorry. I hated to make him do this. Not enough that I could fake a smile and tell him to go on ahead without me. Definitely not that much.

Two voices struggled inside me. One that wanted to be good and brave, and one that told the good one to keep her mouth shut.

Flag eyed me with a look that was much more speculative than it was resigned. His lips were set in dissatisfaction. It looked like he'd made his decision. I wondered what it was. "You alright?" He almost shouted at me.

I nodded. "Hayes is making a big deal out of nothing."  
"Any issues, you tell me, yeah?" His eyes quickly flicked to Hayes. "Watch her." He walked back toward the chopper, leaving me to face Hayes alone.

Danny glared at me.

"I'm sorry," I apologized again.  
"Do you think this will make it more dangerous for you?" Hayes asked gruffly.

I snorted. "You worry too much, Danny Boy. You're going to go prematurely gray." I jumped inside the wreck with a new found energy. I lowered myself into a crouch beside one of the pilots and reached down his face with the fingers of my free hand. Warm breath stirred around my fingertips. I felt blindly towards the neck of the co-pilot for a pulse and found it, weak but stable.

"So we got two pilots still in their seats; we got negative contact, repeat negative contact, on Officer Conner." Flag reported back to Tac from outside. He was still watching me closely.

"Pilot's condition is grave. Co-pilot's not much better. We've got to get them out of here, or they're going to die." My heart was still racing, but slowing. "And we're next, if we don't get off the ground right now."

"Okay, do that, get them out of here. Taylor, green light. Rig this thing."

Taylor was already crawling around on the roof, and something slammed onto the metal, making me jump. "On it."

"Blackburn, we got two pilots in need of immediate EVAC. Request Mortem 2 gets these guys out of here, and then my team and I will go after Conner." Flag said into his comms.

"Stand by, Alpha One."

I looked at Flag over my shoulder, who scanned the perimeter.

"Right now we have two choices, we either send in a full-blown QRF (Quick Reaction Force), which immediately escalates this into a major international incident or, we trust that Tac can find Conner quietly. Knowing how good Conner is at handling herself lets me know which the right option is." Flag said.

"Cassie is a rare breed." I said.

"Yeah, she's kinda tough." He mumbled, turning to watch me set up drips to each of the pilots.

The other chopper soon arrived, and we loaded the unconscious pilots on-board. It flew away, and I held my breath that one didn't get shot down, too.

Thibault's heavy hand came down on my shoulder as Flag watched from the other side of the wreckage.

"Mortem 2 is airborne with both injured pilots. They're clear out of the city. Out of danger." Flag said into the comms.

"Copy, Alpha One." Ellis replied. "Proceed as planned."

"Copy that." He turned to the rest of us, waiting on our next order. "Conner's lost enough today. Let's make sure she doesn't lose her life."

As we walked away from the wreckage, Taylor held up his remote detonator. I always enjoyed this part, but my recent panic attack, I decided it was best not to. Flag strode up beside me, and gave me a reassuring smile.

I nodded slightly and looked ahead, trying to keep any emotion off my face. It used to work, and no one would have ever guess something was wrong… but everything had changed since then.

The chopper detonated with an ear-popping explosion, and big chunks of it flew off in the explosion.

"I can't see faces, but it's definitely two rebels." Amir said through the comm.

"Yeah, well, that's okay, judging by the mood, seems like Conner is still in the wind." Flag looked as an engine revved across the street from us. "How many trucks is that?"

I strolled casually beside him, hands in my pockets. "We're up to six now."

"There's at least 30 rebels after her, maybe even 40." Dalton replied through my earpiece. "Against us five, we're gonna need a break."

"Maybe not." I replied. "Before I put Conner on that bird, I attached a medical RFID (Radio Frequency Identification) bracelet to her wrist. If we can get within 500 yards, Amir should be able to track it."

"That's great, but first we have to get within five hundred yards of her and she could be anywhere." Flag said.

We stopped walking and looked around at any suspicious behaviour from the locals, going about their daily business.

Flag looked at a bald man in the door of a store, who gazed back. His face was unfriendly as he turned to go back inside. "All right, everybody, stand by. I'm going shopping." He went inside the store after the man, and I waited outside, scouting the streets casually.

The man inside spoke something in Russian.

"I think you know I'm looking for my friend." Flag replied, his voice muffled through the walls. "I also think you know these Russians. They're no friend of yours." Then he said something in Russian.

The man spoke more Russian in reply, and added, "Are you bad for business?"

Flag paused, then said something back in Russian again.

Their voices got lower, and I couldn't hear what they were saying, no doubt in Russian anyway.

He finally came back out of the store. "Shop owner says she fled West." He put his arm around my shoulder as we continued walking. "She had five minutes on the rebels, so we start a grid search, see if we can't catch that RFID signal."

Amir appeared around the corner, and followed us.

"Colonel, that makes ten trucks." Ellis said. "With the sun going down, Alpha team will have to get off the street. Zbarov will make you easily."

"There's no way the Russians would make a direct move against us," I replied.

"I think Zbarov's been let off the leash, which means there's no telling what he might do." Ellis said.

She must have forgotten to turn off the comm, because I heard another voice on the end of the line.

"Eric, a word?"

"Neil, we have known each other way too long for you to pull this intra-service crap. If you want to put my team in danger, I deserve a heads up."

"His name is General Anatoli Grayevich, head of the GRU, one of Vladimir Putin's inner circle. He's also our asset, been so for 15 years. The single most important mole in the history of espionage. For years, Grayevitch's handler was Brett Matthews, Moscow Station. Brett died two years ago, heart attack, natural, but by then we'd already groomed his replacement."

"Cassie Conner." Blackburn replied.

Flag's mouth fell open, a stark contrast to the loop he was obviously kept out of.

"Zbarov's been hunting this mole for years. I don't know how he found out that Conner was running him, but if he gets his hands on her, Grayevitch will be dead. As for your heads up, I didn't give you one because I didn't know she was in play. Conner's assignment is so top secret that no one at Langley Ops knows. They called you in thinking this was just a simple extraction. It is, in fact, the most important intelligence exfiltration in decades. Your team must succeed at any cost." There was a long moment of silence. "Well, if you'll excuse me, I've got to go brief the Joint Chiefs. Preparing for the worst."

I shook my head in disgust.

"Boss, I got a fix on Cassie's RFID medical bracelet." Amir said behind us. "It's pinging to an abandoned warehouse." He paused. "Cassie knows the city like the back of her hand, yet according to this, she's decided to take cover in the middle of nowhere. Doesn't feel right."

"We think it's a trap." Ellis replied.

"Understood." Flag said.

"Alpha One, go to a private line."

"Okay," Flag agreed, and twisted a switch on his comm. "Go for Flag." He listened. "Okay… copy that. Switching." He turned the switch back.

I looked at him with one eyebrow arched.

He shook his head with a serious expression. He looked over his shoulder, and Amir had already crossed the street following from the other side.

"They believe every minute we are here, the enemy we are up against will grow in size and sophistication. They also believe the forces that are looking for Cassie Conner will not hesitate to kill us and our team no matter what the political cost. Last but not least, if Cassie Conner falls into the wrong hands, the consequences will be global."

We met the others back at the office building where we had stashed out gear.

"From here on out, it's Moscow Rules. Safeties off, fingers on the trigger. We're gonna make a play for the target indicated by the RFID." Flag ordered.

"Boss, it's obviously a trap." Amir said loudly.

"No one asked for your opinion." I snapped at him.

"Well, maybe you should." He retorted.

Flag put up his hand to stop the argument. "You're probably right. Odds are, it is a trap. See, the thing about traps is the people who set them tend to get tunnel vision. They fixate on their prey. They imagine everything turning out exactly how they orchestrated. And they don't stop to think for one second maybe they're the prey themselves."

We strapped on our gear and snatched up our weapons, ready to raid the warehouse.

Flag and I got there, it appeared to be empty.

Connie's RFID bracelet was on a chair on the second floor landing.

Flag began to climb the steel beams, and I followed suit on the other side of the room. "Alpha Team, come in? We are in position, stand by."

I crouched on a beam overlooking the chair, and waited.

"Copy, Alpha One," Taylor replied. "Standing by."

Now we waited for the Russians.

Amir hashed in. "I have eyes on," he said. "Five tangos coming to you,"

I braced, and stared down my scope at the top of the stairs, waiting for movement.

From the corner of my eye, Flag held up a clenched fist. "Hold," he mumbled through the ear piece.

Five Russian soldiers climbed the stairs, talking to each other lowly. I was hoping Flag's Russian was fluent enough to hear what they were saying.

"Alpha Three, its go time." Flag whispered.

"Copy that, moving in." Taylor replied.

The one with a black beret grabbed the bracelet and frowned. The four other men took guard around the landing, anticipating our decoy.

I aimed at the one with a clear shooting position as the team as they came up the stairs.

He raised his gun in their direction hearing their footsteps.

I pulled the trigger before I could see Taylor leading the others up, and his blood splattered over the wall as his body crumpled.

The other soldiers looked at him, unmoving.

One said something.

Another shouted back at him.

I shot the Bald headed one next, and the others, leaving the one closest to Flag alone.

I winked at Flag, who grinned at me. He knew I was saving the last one for him. i figured that was about as close to action as I was going to get... and compared to manning the coffeemaker in the training room back at DC, it wasn't bad.

The leader stared at his dead colleagues, panicked. His rifle changed directions frantically, looking for the enemy.

Flag carefully swung down off his beam, and gripped the vertical pole behind the leader. He aimed his rifle at the back of the man's head, and waited as the man backed up towards him.

He whistled a _yoo-hoo_ , and the man spun around to look behind him, but Flag was above. "Oye," Flag said.

The man dropped his rifle in fear and raised his hands in surrender.

Flag's nozzle was no more than one foot away from the insurgent's face. He sneered something in Russian.

The man replied, begging.

Flag shouted at him.

"We don't know. We don't know," He replied, desperation in his voice.

Flag pulled the trigger, and the man was hurled to the floor. He jumped down to the landing and stood over the man's bloody carcass. "Clear."

I climbed down, and began searching the bodies.

Taylor, Hayes, Dalton, Amir and Thibault reached the top of the stairs, and helped me look for anything useful on the soldier's bodies.

I found one man's phone, and threw it to Amir.

Flag grabbed the bracelet from the chair. "Well, good news is all they had was Conner's bracelet, so I don't think they have her."

"Better news is we got their phones." I replied.

Amir beeped on each phone. "Download metadata on each phone, then run _mystic_ on every single number. Filter out anything beyond a ten mile radius."

"Smart." I said.

"Tac are gonna track all the rebels using their phones. At least now we can see the whole board." Amir grinned at me.

Ellis hashed in. "Alpha One, we're up to twelve trucks now. Make that fourteen. Colonel, you need to get to ground fast. You have multiple inbound targets, and are about to be totally surrounded."

Flag nodded, "Alpha Team on me. We're moving back to a secure location."

Back at our make-shift safe house, I watched out the window at the bustling street below.

Russian trucks passed, soldiers patrolled the ground, despite the sinking sun. Their radios were chatting as they searched buildings below.

"This is crap." Amir muttered. "We should be out there looking for her. And instead we're doing what exactly? "

"Being smart." I replied, folding my arms and leaning against the wall, not taking my eyes off the men below.

"We're doing nothing."

"Yeah, sometimes doing nothing is doing something." I replied calmly, knowing Amir was getting frustrated.

"Really, Chapman?" McGuire asked.

"Yeah, really, McG." I turned to look at him. Flag was watching from the other side of the room, cleaning his carbine. "Like when you're waiting, you're trusting that more will be revealed."

"By who? God? There's a woman out there fighting and dying." Amir argued.

"And us getting killed won't help her." I snapped.

"Wow. "You're such a team player."

"Hey." Flag interrupted. "That's enough." He growled, carefully placing his rifle on the table and standing up. "All right, you guys want to vent? That's one thing, but going at each other, especially while we're in the field, that's a non-starter. Now, if you would let Jaz finish her sentence, you would've heard her say we're waiting for our team back in DC. Unless of course you guys think you're so high-speed you can just do everything on your own. Right now, any move we make could put us further from Conner. Any move could get us captured, worse. Now, you heard Ellis. DIA (Defence Intelligence Agency) says she's gonna reach out; it's our job to be ready when she does. Until that point, we will wait."

I straightened and gave Amir a stern look. " _That_ is being a team player." I turned back to the window and my eyes scanned the manned trucks with their .50 cal machine guns mounted on the back. "You cannot ask Flag to find a needle in the haystack. Intel is Tac's job. At least we know Zbarov still hasn't got her."

"That is no comfort." McGuire said under his breath.

"Zbarov outnumbers us 20 to 1. He wins the war of attrition. Ellis has got to find out where Cassie is hiding." Flag added.

"Alpha One, this is Tac," Ellis said suddenly, making Amir and McGuire straighten with hope. "We found her."


	26. Chapter 26 Take Down

I felt like I was trapped in one of those terrifying nightmares, the one where you have to run, run till your lungs burst, but you can't make your body move fast enough.

My legs seemed to move slower and slower as I fought my way through the callous white space, but the hands on the huge clock ahead of me didn't slow. With relentless, uncaring force, they turned inexorably toward the end–the end of everything.

Arthur turned to me abruptly, slapping my cheek to get my attention.

My eyes flew open, and I was still here, arms cuffed behind the back for the chair.

"Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey. Or, gas and a blow torch." His thumb was flicking the metal switch of the blow torch, an ominous sound in the emptiness.

I closed my eyes so I couldn't see the flame, scrunching them together in terror, clamping my mouth shut so I wouldn't scream.

I could only think of one possibility, locked in horror as I was.

Arthur was going to aim the blow torch at the river of fuel that lead to my chair, and that he had doused over my bloodied, bruised body.

My eyes widened in panic as the torch hit the gasoline, and the blue-orange flames surged toward me in an impossible speed. It quickly enveloped me.

The warmth around my skin got more and more real, warmer and warmer. Hotter. The heat was so real it was hard to believe that I was imagining it.

Hotter.

Uncomfortable now. Too hot.

Much, much too hot.

Like grabbing the wrong end of a curling iron—my automatic response was to break free my arms and douse the flame. But there was something pinning my arms behind me. My arms were dead things lying somewhere at my side. The heat was inside me.

The burning grew—rose and peaked and rose again until it surpassed anything I'd ever felt.

I felt the pulse behind the fire raging now over my body. I wished that I'd embraced the whiteness while I'd still had the chance. I wanted to raise my arms and claw my chest open and rip my heart from it—anything to get rid of this torture.

Being stabbed with a searing hot knife blade . That was nothing. That was a soft place to rest on a feather bed. I'd take that now, a hundred times. A hundred gun shots. I'd take it and be grateful.

A half second later, I screamed.

It was not just a scream, it was a blood-curdling shriek of agony. The horrifying sound cut off with a gurgle.

The scenery had changed. Hours ago I'd wandered in a wide sea of white. There was nothing else there, and I was lost, wandering aimless and alone, searching for nothing.

I fell to the ground, and sat, wide-eyed and confused. For this time, I wasn't in the chair. Just lost aimlessly.

The whiteness rushed over my eyes more solidly than before. Like a thick blindfold, firm and fast.  
Covering not just my eyes but also my _self_ with a crushing weight.

It was exhausting to push against it. I knew it would be so much easier to give in.

To let the white push me down, down to a place where there was no pain and no weariness and no worry and no fear.

If it had only been for myself, I wouldn't have been able to struggle very long. I was only human, with no more than human strength.

But this wasn't just about me.

If I did the easy thing now, let the nothingness erase me, I would hurt them.

Rick. My life and his were twisted into a single strand. Cut one, and you cut both. If he were gone, I would not be able to live through that. If I were gone, he

wouldn't live through it, either. And a world without Alpha Dogs seemed completely pointless.

But it was so lonely here that I couldn't see either of the Alpha Dog's faces as though I had erased them from my memory. Nothing seemed real.

That made it hard not to give up.

I kept pushing against the white, though, almost a reflex. I wasn't trying to lift it. I was just resisting.  
Not allowing it to crush me completely. I was an Atlas, and the white felt as heavy as a planet; I couldn't shoulder it. All I could do was not be entirely

obliterated.

It was sort of the pattern to my life—I'd never been strong enough to deal with the things outside my control, to attack the enemies or outrun them. To avoid the pain.

Always human and weak, the only thing I'd ever been able to do was keep going.

Endure. Survive.

It had been enough up to this point. It would have to be enough today. I would endure this until help came.

I held the whiteness of nonexistence at bay by inches.

It wasn't enough, though—that determination. As the time ground on and on and the emptiness gained by tiny eighths and sixteenths of my inches, I needed something more to draw strength from.

I couldn't pull even Flag's face into view.

Nothing. It terrified me, and I wondered if it was too late.

I felt myself slipping—there was nothing to hold on to.

The nothingness cuts off your senses altogether. No pain, but also no sight or sound or smell. Total sensory deprivation. You are utterly alone in the whiteness. You don't even feel it when they burn you.

Even though I was longer burning alive, I was still terrified. But by some small miracle, I spotted a door. Thinking I had finally found a way out, I burst through the door.

It was the Alpha barracks. But I wasn't the only one here. Sam Taylor had one eye shut and the other open. Blood was coming from his mouth and he was making a gurgling sound. He was unconscious. He had lost too much blood. He needed a doctor and a hospital. Even that may not have been enough to save him. He was just barely alive.

Hayes legs were stretched stiff in front of him and were splashed with bright red blood. I was horrified.

 _My guys!_

Qassem and his clan felt it was their turn to rule. They had purchased that right with blood, the ancient currency of power.

Thibault was crumpled on the floor in a pool of red. I searched through the other rooms in desperation to find Flag.

A sudden pain twisted in my stomach, almost like the aftershock of catching a punch in the gut.

His torso was a mass of blood and gore. His face looked ghostly white; gone. His skin was grayed and stiff with he residue of death.

My stomach heaved, and I had to swallow back vomit.

But it was worse than that, so much worse. His distorted body, the blood that formed an oily pool that shone dully on the concrete floor of the barracks.

Like some kind of digital virus, my surroundings folded away into the white. The dank, coppery smell of blood as I stood in the centre of the carnage faded away, and I was alone again in the bright emptiness.  
My knees gave way and I fell to the ground, sprawling about the space on my hands in knees in total hopelessness.  
"No… no!" I stammered. I searched the blankness, but found no traces of anything. No one, nothing.

The eerie silence rang in my ears like static, an uncomfortable pressure building inside my eardrums.  
"Let me out!" I shrieked, only to break the silence. "Do you hear me?" My own voice sounded foreign to me, strangled and uncharacteristic. "Can anyone hear me, let me out!" My screams were building into hysteria more and more as I searched the white. Finally, at the top of my lungs, I cried. "Let me out!"

*.*.*.*.

I woke with a start–my eyelids popping open wide–and I gasped. Dull gray light, the familiar

light of an overcast morning, took the place of the blinding white in my dream.

Now that I was really awake, the nothingness and torture of the dream gnawed on my nerves, a dog worrying a bone.

I was in an the giant fuselage of a Locheed Galaxy C-5, DEVGRU's largest military aircraft. The wall beside me was hardened steel; over my head, the glaring lights blinded me. I was propped up on a hard, uneven crate — no doubt filled with tactical equipment.

There was an annoying beeping sound somewhere close by. I hoped that meant I was awake and alive.

I had the sense that I'd been asleep for a very long time–my body was stiff, like I hadn't moved once through all that time, either. My mind was dazed and slow;

strange, colourful nightmares–swirled dizzily around the inside of my head.

They were so vivid. The horrible loneliness and the horror, all mixed together into a bizarre jumble. There was sharp impatience and fear, both part of that frustrating dream where your feet can't move fast enough.

The dream was still strong–I could even remember the smell of diesel. But the strongest, clearest part of the dream was not the horror. It was the white that was _most_ clear.

It was hard to let it go and wake up. This dream did not want to be shoved away into the vault of dreams I refused to revisit. I struggled with it as my mind became more alert, focusing on reality.

This time, I had awoke to a rough numbness in the surface of my skin, like the feeling your hands get after you've rinsed them clean of detergent or white spirit, but spread throughout the body. It subsided rapidly as my mind adjusted to my nervous system. The faint chill of air conditioning on exposed flesh.

I reached with my right hand, scrabbling to cover remembered wounds. Instead, I found straps grasping me into the seat.

I lifted my left hand to rip off the belt.

"No, you don't." And cool fingers caught my hand.

If was still dreaming, it felt abnormally real.

But I realized that it felt too real, too real to be a nightmare.

"Logan?" I turned my head slightly, and his face was just inches from mine, his cheek resting on the steel wall. I realized again that I was alive, this time with gratitude and elation. "Oh, where are we?" I couldn't remember clearly, and my mind rebelled against me as I tried to recall, but I knew we were in transit... somewhere.

"Afghanistan." Thibault answered, a palpable shimmer of happiness overwhelmed his face.  
Shock sent shivers through me, I was surprised someone answered me back.

I rubbed my eyes with the palms of my hands to wipe away the heavy feeling. "Afghanistan?" I held my head gingerly as the groggy feeling slowly eased.

In so many years of slaughter and carnage, I'd lost nearly all of my humanity. I was undeniably a nightmare, a monster of the grisliest kind. Yet each time I

found another victim, I would feel a faint prick of remembrance for that other life. For the first century of my military life, I lived in a world of bloodthirsty vengeance. Hate was my constant companion. It eased some when I met Flag, but I still had to endure the terror of my prey.

It began to be too much. It was hard to believe that, not so long ago, I'd found the Enchantress frightening - lost sleep to nightmares about her, adding the sensory deprivation torture in Iran on top of it.

My eyebrows stayed lodged in a worried line over my anxious brown eyes.

 _It was just a dream_ , I reminded myself again. Just a dream… but also my worst nightmare.

"Hey, ere you okay, Trig?" Thibault asked, worry creasing his forehead.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I tried to brush off the stress, forcing a faux grin on my face.

Logan sniffed and looked away, pretending he wasn't interested. For that, I was grateful. "It's not the same, is it?"

"Huh?"

"Spinning up without Kowalski."

Some very unpleasant memories were beginning to come back to me. I shuddered, and then winced. I leaned back on the wall, my head spinning. Something tugged at my memory, elusive, on the edges.

"Sorry," he said, whispering. "That was out of line."

" _It's okay._ " I muttered. "I miss him too. He would be having the time of his life, right now."

What was I doing? I should be running from this memory as fast as I could, blocking the image of Kowalski from my mind, protecting myself with the numbness I couldn't live without.

That particular part of that particular time was just a blur. My body remembered it better than my mind did; the tension in my legs as I tried to decide whether to stand up or to stay in my seat, the dryness in my throat as I struggled to keep my voice steady, the tight stretch of skin across my knuckles as I clenched my hands into fists,

the chill on the back of my neck when red light came on above us.

Thibault frowned at me in the shadows.

"ETA 20 minutes!" Flag shouted from somewhere near the cabin.

"Trig?" Thibault urged.

I ignored him, walking slowly forward without ever making the conscious decision to move

my feet. I didn't understand why, but the nebulous threat a fight presented drew me toward the armoured boxes.. It was a senseless impulse, but I hadn't felt _any_ kind of impulse in so long… I followed it.

Something unfamiliar beat through my veins. Adrenaline, I realized, long absent from my system, drumming my pulse faster and fighting against the lack of sensation.

It was strange–why the adrenaline when there was no fear? It was almost as if it were an echo of the last time I'd stood like this, ready to descend from a plane with Kowalski as my second in command.

I saw no reason for fear. I couldn't imagine anything in the world that there was left to be afraid of, not physically at least. One of the few advantages of losing everything.

.*.*.*.*

AFGHANISTAN

"These guys look harmless," Dalton mused, watching as the Afghan soldiers loaded several captured Taliban fighters off their gun truck.

"Yeah." McGuire agreed.

"Can you imagine checking in to this place? Definitely no mints on the pillows." Amir winked at Hayes.

I scoffed, surprised at the dismal banter. "Definitely no pillows." I looked over at Flag, who was watching each prisoner as they were pushed off the truck with heated force. His arms were crossed and his face was stoic, focussed. My eyes followed his gaze, to a Taliban with extensive facial scars; it looked like half of his face had melted and stayed that way.

"Oof. Looks like that guy tried to make out with an IED." Taylor was watching the man, too.

Flag sighed and turned to an Afghan soldier, who was also watching the prisoners. "Well, after the questioning is complete, we'll take custody, we'll move the prisoner to an American base."

"He's already been placed in interrogation," The bald-headed soldier replied, looking at one particular prisoner, who didn't look like a Taliban at all. Sure, his hair was curly like the others, but he was blonde- not a typical Middle-Eastern resident.

"How gently?" Flag ebbed.

"If you can get him to talk, he's still capable of it." The soldier answered indifferently.

"You guys got nothing?"

"I just hope your interrogator is a better man than ours." The soldier replied sarcastically.

" _She_ is." Flag was dead serious. He extended his hand to the man and grinned as the soldier looked dubious. "See you in there."

The man obliged, and shook Flag's hand.

Flag then wandered toward us, one hand on his rifle. This was usually an instinct or habit of ours, always ready.

"So, you get the house rules, yeah?" McGuire asked as Flag stood in front of us, squinting in the sun.

"So you have to keep your hands outside the cage at all times." He pointed at Amir, Hayes a Dalton and I. "I want four of you on the outside. McGuire, you're gonna be with us. We're gonna go side arms only. Taylor, stay at the Humvee for exfil."

McGuire nodded. "You want me to take my shoes off too?"

"That might be _more_ lethal" I disagreed.

Amir and Taylor laughed.

"Ha. Ha." McGuire retorted sarcastically, placing his rifle inside the Humvee tail gate as I was perched on it. "What have they got? 50 guards in there? For like, two thousand Taliban prisoners?"

"They seem to be doing alright," Hayes defended.

"Is this the deputy director's idea of a vacation?" I added cynically.

Taylor cocked one eyebrow. "Sun, sand…"

"And Taliban." Hayes finished.

"Oooh," I whispered.

Taylor smirked. "Reminds me of that Somali pirate situation."

My eyes darted to Flag, knowing this was the op he mentioned that caused the deep scar on his chest.

Flag grinned. "Yeah, yeah, yeah," he said, almost excited. "We caught this dirt bag who had a freighter captain stashed away, nobody knew where. Several interrogators took a really hard run at the guy. They got nothing. Ellis shows up. She ends up locking herself in a closet in the hold of the ship alone with the guy with nothing but a chest full of ice cubes."

Taylor smiled. "She walks out three days later, right? She's got the guys location."

"Why ice?" Amir asked.

"Because it was hot," Hayes replied as though it was the most obvious answer. The story seemed to be finished, but I was curious to know more. Purely because I wanted to know how Flag got in and out of the tangle with the Somali fighter.

But Nicole Ellis came strutting in, wearing a pressed suit and dress pants. Her sunglasses were pushed all the way up to the bridge of her nose. "Hello, everyone," she said, taking her place beside Flag confidently. "Nice to see all of you. Sorry, we don't have times for pleasantries." She looked up at Flag, eager. "Colonel,"

The two strolled off toward the large brick structure, seemingly camouflaged in the desert sand. Large stone walls guarded the prison, but only three men guarded the outside gate.

"Was going to ask you how your trip was, but I guess it wasn't what you had hoped for." Flag started.

"This is the Helmand Province. I'll settle for an opium cocktail and a bit of goat." Ellis laughed. "What are we walking into?"

"They worked him over pretty good." Flag replied, serious.

Ellis looked around her carefully, satisfied that Alpha Team were her only audience. "I told them not to touch him."

"Well, that order has a tendency to get lost in translation out here."

Nicole Ellis hummed in an unsure agreement. "Anything else?"

"Yeah. DC clearly only sends you out on priority Alpha cases, so you want to let me know what's so special about this guy?"

"An attack on a US base that's imminent. A bombing, big, and central. We think this guy knows where."

Flag and Ellis lowered their voices as one of the guards passed by.

"Intelligence say when?"

"As of this morning, it was hours, not days. Any of this going to be a problem?" Ellis asked, casually.

"No. Uh-uh. Not unless you suddenly hit a batting slump."

"You wish."

"So who'd you leave them at the helm of the uh… _Enterprise?_ " Flag asked as they headed back towards us.

"You're about to hear his voice." Ellis sighed.

Flag sniffed and turned on his earpiece. "Command, radio check. We're outside the gates of the lovely Four Seasons Helmand."

"Affirmative." A nervous sounding man replied through our comms.

"Whatever tactic I use, however I come at this guy, whatever he throws back, you two are stone, you understand?" Ellis commanded Flag and McGuire through my earpiece.

"You got it," Flag sounded resigned as they entered the prison, giving Alpha Team a last glance over his shoulder as they entered deeper into the Helmand Prison.

I lifted my sniper rifle carefully over my shoulder as the gates jarred to a close behind them.

Amir let out a long whoosh of air. "Here we go."

"You glad to be back in Trashcanistan, Chapman?" Taylor asked, turning his cap backwards, grinning.

My head bobbed. "Sure am. There's only so much paperwork and rest one can put up with."

"Hooah," Dalton chirped with a sly grin. "Pity Flag put you on the back bench though,"

"Over-watch ain't the back bench, Trig." Amir reassured. "You're a sniper, and I respect that."

"Taylor's going to win the bet," Dalton said smugly.

Taylor's laughter stopped at once, and he studied me with appraising eyes.

"What bet?" I demanded, pausing.

"It's nothing," Amir urged. He was staring at Taylor. His head shook infinitesimally.

 _"What bet?"_ I insisted as I turned on him.

"Thanks, Dalton," he muttered as he tightened his belt around his waist.

"Amir . . . ," I grumbled.

"It's infantile," he shrugged. "Taylor and McG like to gamble."

"Hayes will tell me." I tried to turn, but his arm was like iron around me.

He sighed. "They're betting on how many times you . . . slip up after Iran."

"Oh." I grimaced, trying to hide my sudden horror as I realized what he meant. "They have a

bet about how many people I'll kill?"

"Yes," he admitted unwillingly. "Dalton thinks your temper will turn the odds in Taylor's favour."

I felt a little extraordinary. "He's betting high."

"It will make him feel better if you have a hard time adjusting. He's tired of being the weakest link."

"Sure. Of course it will. I guess I could throw in a few extra homicides, if it makes him happy. Why not?" I was babbling, my voice a blank monotone.

In my head, I was seeing newspaper headlines, lists of names. . . all the while, my fingers caressed the barrel on my sniper rifle.

Amir looked at me nervously. "You don't need to worry about it now. In fact, you don't have to worry about it ever, if you don't want to."

"Oh, I'm sure I could swing something,"

He worried aloud a few times that I was wasn't ready to get back to work, but I assured him that that wasn't it. Ukraine went without incident.

As if I needed - or even had room for - one more thing to worry about.

All of Hayes's stories about soldiers with PTSD had been percolating in my head since he'd explained his shaky past.

Now those stories jumped into sharp focus with the news of his and Taylor's wager. I wondered randomly what they were betting.

What was a motivating prize when you were a soldier?

"Well, it's nice to do something for a change. You don't know how irritating it is - missing things the way I have been. I feel so useless. So . . . normal." I cringed in horror of the word.

"I can't imagine how awful that must feel. Being normal? Ugh." Amir laughed.

There was a sudden rattle of muffled gunfire and distant shouts from men on the other side of the huge stone walls.

I wasn't surprised at all- having a skeleton staff keeping thousands of Taliban restrained inside a prison in the middle of Afghanistan? They wouldn't be able to hold them off for long before there was a riot.

Confirmation was already coming from our earpieces.

""What's happening? Flag, do you read?" the comms radioed.

"I copy. Bit of a situation here. Saw a guard who was just responding to gunfire, and four armed prisoners out on the first floor landing."

"Sounds like we got a full-blown riot on our hands," Taylor replied.

"I have no idea. But someone definitely just lit a fuse. I'm gonna get us outta here before the bomb goes off." Flag said in a low voice, panting.

"Roger that. We will scramble backup and notify Afghan security forces." The man on the comms reported.

"Alright. They took his keys. We're gonna have to find-" Flag's voice was replaced with static.

"Losing comms!" the radio shouted.

After a tense moment, the radio went silent, then more heavy breathing. "I said, we're gonna have to find an alternate exit."

"We're going to try get our hands on a blueprint," the radio hashed out.

"Okay Jaz," Flag droned quietly. "I need you to find a tower. Set over-watch. Dalton, Amir, the main gates are not keyed. They're operated by a control room." Gunfire rattled off in the background as I snatched my pack from the Humvee tailgate. I swung my gear back over my shoulder and winked as Amir began to load his rifle.

"I'm gonna need that open. But not until I say go."

I headed toward the tower to the east, and decided it was safe enough to climb up and inside without being seen.

"We're on it." Dalton grabbed his weapon and checked for a fresh mag.

As I dashed to the base of the tower outside the walls, I could hear Flag rushing along the echoing halls inside, and something crackled. Men's screaming followed, and faded as if the volume were being turned down.

"Where's McG?" I shouted into the comm.

"He's with the HVTs," Flag's rushed reply had me climbing the ladder to the tower with a new urgency.

I put my fingers gingerly underneath the trap door, and held my handgun up to my cheek as I lifted the lid slowly, checking for any combatants.

There was no one there, so I threw the door open and rushed to get my bag and rifle inside.

The bag flew into the pit, and I placed my rifle carefully on the floor as I climbed in.

"Alright, we gotta move. Now." Flag ordered, slamming a door behind him. "Now, let's go."

"Get up!" McGuire commanded, seemingly at the hostage who was stalling.

"You're gonna move, and you're do it quietly," Ellis was talking to the hostage in a low, shaky voice. "Because if you're the reason we're caught, I'm going to tell everyone you're an asset. And then you'll die a traitor, not a martyr." She paused. "This interrogation isn't over, exfil or not."

I searched through the front pocket of my back, and turned on an infrared motion detector. Making sure it was operational, I hovered my hand over the sensor, hearing the beeps as I did it. I placed it on the ledge beside the trap door.

More gunfire erupted from below as I assembled my rifle on the wall of the look out.

"Hold on-"Flag shouted. "This water's electrified. Get him on the boards. Move."

There was a pause on the radio, only the electrifying sparks hashing in.

"What?" Flag grunted.

"If he was so eager to be a martyr, he would have stepped in the water. He stepped back, I can work with that" Ellis replied.

"Not dead, you can't. Let's go. Dalton, how are those gates looking?"

There was more gunfire and yelling.

"Looks like someone already opened 'em."

"I got a head count on 20 rogue prisoners, armed, in the foyer, on the way to the front door. Two dead guards. Small arms fire." Amir reported, sounding a little spooked.

Flag grunted impatiently.

"Colonel, you said the main gates were operated from a control room?" The man on the comms asked.

"That's correct." Flag replied.

"Rioting prisoners on the inside would have no access to a control room on the outside."

Flag scoffed. "Unless it was orchestrated. Sympathetic guards slips a prisoner a weapon."

"Opens the gates." The man added.

"Exactly."

I aimed my rifle at the front entrance, and tried to anticipate them. The prisoners would appear, and I would squeeze off a well-aimed round, and the men would crumble to the ground. Instant satisfaction, and an easy shot for a sniper. "This isn't a riot, it's a prison break." I said confidently.

"Alright, Dalton, I need you to close those gates." Flag ordered.

Dalton groaned unsurely. "Look, with all due respect, Colonel-. If the gates open, you can get out. If it's not, you won't be able to."

"Yeah, but not at the expense of a thousand bad dudes squirtin' back into the desert. I don't need that on my conscience right now, thank you."

Dalton paused. "Let me get this clear. You want me to lock you inside a prison riot?"

"Affirmative." Flag said. At the sound of that word all the radio traffic, which was busy, stopped. Long seconds of silence followed. "Get it done Dalton."

I could tell them exactly what the Taliban wanted: death and blood, revenge and more death.

My skin was all hot and prickly. I breathed slowly in and out, focusing on that to calm

myself.

Because—in a tier one's eyes—by being captured, it was a fate that was worse than death, or at least equivalent to it.

Was death the lesser concern? Was it really capture we should fear? After Tehran, I wasn't willing to take that bet.

I heard the explosion of gunfire and the zing and pop of rounds passing close to the comm. Flag sighed. "We're on the move."

I was too aghast to make any noise at all. It was one thing to know that death was

coming with fierce, unstoppable speed; it was another thing to watch it happen.

Though I was desperate to be sure that Rick was safe, I could not afford any lapse in focus now.

My still heart felt like a boulder in my chest—a crushing weight. All my hope faded like fog in the sunshine. My eyes pricked.

Unlike Amir and Dalton, I had been to war before, in Afghanistan and Iraq, and I knew soldiers fought better when things were going their way.

Once things turned, it was hard to reassert control.

People panicked.

It was happening to Dalton right now. Panic was a virus in combat, a deadly one.

It also made me wonder if everyone on the team thought I was going to get out of control in desperation.

Even when I met the eyes of Hayes, who stared right back with a speculation that _looked_ like interest, I felt in control. Just the same desperate drive to find a way out of this mess.

 _Only_ _way home is winning_ Kowalski's voice echoed in my head.

 _I believe that,_ I replied.

 _So then what do you feel when you shoot a terrorist?_ Kowalski continued.

 _Recoil_. The sound of our laughter cleared the fog of desperation.

Amir sniffed. "You completed your close quarter combat right?"

"Of course." Dalton responded. "Why?"

"'Cause my instinct's anticipating close-quarter combat. Two rules. Number one. Shoot the bad guys. Number two. Don't shoot me." Amir answered lowly.

I laughed to myself. I didn't have time to ponder Amir's mortality. I was waiting around the corner a block east of the target building, listening to the escalating gunfire and itching to get my big gun into the fight. But I was the last one outside beside Taylor, so I was pulling front security, with my gun facing down the path away from everything. I was mostly worried about missing out on the shooting.

Gunshots methodically shattered the silence through the radio.

"You shot the guard." Amir reported.

"Of course. He was one of the bad guys." Dalton replied.

Amir scoffed. "How do you know that?"

"Well, otherwise they wouldn't have left him alive."

Amir and Dalton chuckled at each other.

"Okay, boss, gates are closing." Silence. "Gates are closed. God speed." Dalton said proudly.

Flag sighed in reaction. "How are those exits looking, Tac?"

"Colonel, the schematic we're working with is pretty rudimentary, we're contacting contractors who may have worked at the prison." He paused. "Scratch that, we got you an exit. Can you give us your location?"

"Uh, yeah. East wing, heading west."

The man breathed into my earpiece. "Flag, we got a reference to a HVAC room with a loading dock that's in the central wing. If they're crashing the front gates, your best shot is crossing the east yard."

"We passed that on the way in." Flag answered. "Jaz? Have you got eyes on that yet?"

"About 100 by 300. East and west doors are clear." I mumbled as my cheek jarred against the rifle. "But I got 12 Taliban prisoners breaking open crates on the far end." I spied the tiny men through the cross hairs, and they were searching through wooden crates as though they were kids at a lucky dip.

"Weapons?"

"Nothing I can see. I'm not sure what's in the crates."

"Let's hope it's deodorant," Hayes mumbled into the radio.

I sighed impatiently, because I wasn't finished. "If you can get here fast enough, their backs are to you. You might be able to creep by unnoticed."

"We good?" I heard Ellis ask in the background.

"That depends," Flag breathed. "What's your 100 yard dash time?"

Ellis laughed humourlessly. "Better when my life depends on it."

The men at the crates were opening bags of food and shoving the contents into their mouths like ravenous dogs.

"Good news." I reported. "Looks like our friends were just hungry."

"Okay, well, keep watching our six."

"So far, so good." I added.

A shrill beeping sounded behind me. Without thinking, I took my handgun and shot it over my shoulder blindly, not looking to see who it was.

Everyone on Alpha Team were either inside, or waiting in the Humvee, and they knew better than to sneak up on a lone sniper, especially if it were me. I mechanically slid my handgun back into its holster and returned to the scene below.

"Jaz, East door." Flag shouted.

My entire body shifted with the rifle, aiming at the wooden East door, where a white-robed man had emerged, dashing toward the yard.

Taking aim with the weapon's crosshairs, I guessed he was two hundred meters away. The rifle launched with a punch of a back blast, and I watched it zoom straight in on my target. The gun in his hand went flipping up in the air as he fell.

"Follow's down." I informed.

Flag let out a deep breath. "Alright, we're clear. Command, which way are we headed?"

"You're almost there. Head straight down the hallway. Take the last left. The door on the last left is the HVAC room."

McGuire broke the silence on the other end of the comms. "That's a solid door, Colonel. We're gonna need explosives."

There was a loud crashing noise and a distant bang behind them.

"Or that. We could _Colonel Flag_ it instead."

"Okay, Tac, if there was a loading dock here at one time. It ain't here now. We have no exit. Do you copy?" Flag demanded. Impatient. Whiney.

"Flag, we have got no reference for another exit. No reason to trust it if we did. Your best move might be to reinforce that door and hunker down."

"No Bueno out that way, Tac." McGuire mumbled.

I watched the East door as three men ushered a guard roughly outside.

"Negative. Not much for hunkering right now. Amir, I need you to find me a guard who's still breathing, someone who knows this place."

"Rick, I think I got one. I'll send him to you." I mumbled listlessly.

The men threw the guard to the ground and removed his cap, one pulling his head up by his hair. The man grabbing him had a machete in his hand, and he was yelling something at him.

The guard screamed out, and the other man released him angrily.

One of the other men watched, as another held the guard in place on the ground.

The one with the machete bend over, holding the guard's hair again, holding the blade against his neck as though he were going to cut the head off.

I pulled the trigger just as he raised the blade, and his body went limp, falling beside the guard.

I shot the other man, and he too, fell to the ground. The spectator was frantically searching for the source of the bullets, but he collapsed as my finger lifted off the trigger.

The guard looked around for a short moment, then scrambled to his feet and bolted for the front gate.

I followed him in my sight, trying to make him turn around by shooting just ahead of him.

But he kept running.

"Wrong way, buddy." I mumbled, more to myself than to the guard, pumping the trigger faster, and aiming closer to the guard's feet.

He finally ducked, and turned back around.

"Say hi to my friends," I added, watching as he entered the building. "Rick, you got one guard coming to you."

"Flag, we've got a pretty serious Calvary headed your way." Command added.

The Colonel sighed. "Yeah? It's about time."

"It's not our cavalry. They took out your exfil convoy."

I grunted angrily. "How far out are they?"

"Twenty minutes. Black Hawks should be on target in forty. Afghan forces are at least an hour."

A sharp jolt of unease pierced my stomach as I realized how short the time really was.

I had to remind myself that this wasn't a movie, and the realization filled me initially with a dark adolescent glee. Everything was going to hell-very quickly.

The idea of being in danger from even the most deadly of humans while Flag was with Alpha Team or the DEVGRU's most deadly sniper outside was downright hilarious.

"Perfect." McGuire added sarcastically. "Just in time to retrieve our bodies."

"I need a way out of this place." Flag said, ignoring McGuire.

"All the other doors are closed." The guard argued.

Flag's voice had only confirmed what I'd already known. No reason for fresh panic.

In theory. Not panicking was easier said than done.

Another threat was only moments away, but I wondered if it wasn't a little foolish to sit around, isolated and alone, waiting for the next disaster.

"What about the exterior walls? This all poured concrete?" Flag asked.

"Not the west wing. The new construction." The guard replied.

"Amir, Dalton, I need you to get to the west-most building. Okay? I need you to make us a door. "

Amir breathed. "You just get to where you're going, boss, we'll be there."

Dalton and Amir appeared outside the east wing, and scrambled across the yard to the Humvee, all the while glancing over their shoulders.

"Hey!" Flag's voice shouted in my ear as I watched for movement below. "This is what I do. And I'm gonna get you out of here, okay?"

There was an uneasy laugh from Ellis. "Oh, that's a relief. I was on the verge of convincing Blackburn to promote McGuire."

"That's a mistake," Flag scoffed.

"Too little field experience?" Ellis asked coyly.

Flag grunted. "He's not pretty enough. You ready?"

I slung my rifle and back over my shoulder after throwing the motion sensor in my pocket and headed down the ladder to join Taylor and the others.

Now wasn't the time for anyone to doubt Flag's decision to close the gates. He had been living by the sword now for about two decades. He was one of the least known important army officers in America. He had run covert operations all over the world - Asia, the Middle East, Africa, Central America, South America, the Caribbean. One thing all these missions had in common was they required cooperation from the locals.

They also demanded a low threshold for bullshit.

The Colonel was a bemused cynic. He had seen just about everything, and didn't expect much - except from his men. His gruff informality suited an officer who had begun his career not as a military academy graduate.

He was a blunt realist who avoided the pomp and pretence of upper echelon military life. Soldiering was about fighting. It was about killing people before they killed you. It was about having your way by force and guile in a dangerous world, taking a shit in the woods, living in dirty, difficult conditions, enduring hardships and risks that could - and sometimes did - kill you.

It was ugly work.

Which is not to say that certain men didn't enjoy it, didn't live for it.

Flag was one of those men. He embraced its cruelty. He would say, this man needs to die. Just like that. Some people needed to die. It was how the real world worked. Nothing pleased Flag more than a well-executed hit, and if things went to hell and he had to slug it out, then it was time to summon a dark relish for mayhem. Why be a soldier if you couldn't exult in a heart-pounding, balls-out gunfight? Which is what made him so good.

A sudden volley of gunfire rang through my earpiece.

"Go! Exit on me-Jaz, get to the Humvee!"

"I'm already on my way." I replied calmly.

"Go across," The Afghan guard instructed in the radio. "Go down, first floor. Laundry room. Good place for a door."

There was silence, followed by the clicking of fresh mags reloading.

"Alright, we're not gonna have Jaz this time. So we gotta do this fast."

McGuire sighed. "Yeah, Jacob Marley here will make that a little difficult."

"Do you have your keys?" Flag whispered. "Take those off. Ready?"

I heard occasional snapping sounds in the air around their location and assumed it was the sound of gunfire that also sounded through the radio, even though the noise was close Maybe the air was playing tricks on me.

"Ah!" An unfamiliar voice yelled out on the radio.

"He's hit!" McGuire shouted.

Flag breathed into the comm. "How bad is it?"

The man screamed again, and his screams turned to moans.

"Sounds _bad_?" McGuire replied, unsure.

I leaped off the ladder, skipping the last three rungs, and stepped over the body of the man who tried to take me out in the tower. I bolted for the Humvee.

Taylor had already met me halfway, Hayes swung the door wide open so Amir could grab my rifle, and Hayes helped me scramble inside. Dalton waited in the back.

"Leave it. Dalton, we're in cell block three. Prisoner's been hit. Where are we at, Taylor?" Flag asked gruffly.

"Just picked up Trig, and on our way."

"Okay, I'll flag the target."

I hashed in. "Command, how are we looking on those friendlies?"

"Black Hawks are on target in 30. We have authorisation to reroute an armed drone."

"Alright, how long?"

"20 minutes." The man replied. "Taliban reinforcements land in 10."

I rolled my eyes. "Great." Time was of short supply, and our team were still inside.

I tried to understand the spiraling voices through the comms, tried to follow the curling pathway the words made to see where they were leading, but it wasn't making sense. The meaning in the center of their tone were _my_ pictures—the very worst of them. The prisoners seeking out the Americans. Rick's face as he tried frantically to get the team out...

 _They fear it, too._

 _But they won't do anything about it._

 _Protect the HVT_

 _We can't let that influence us._

 _The safety of our team, of everyone there, is more important than_ one _Taliban._

 _If they can't make it out, we have to bomb it._

 _The convoy were intervened… they're all dead. Alpha Team are on their own._

"Hey, Noah, next time you're in charge, you owe me some good news." Flag shouted over the banging of guns.

"Roger that." The man said on the comms. "I'm gonna make sure you're around to hear it."

"Stay here, I'm going to paint a target. I'll be right back." Flag ordered.

There was a low groaning in the background.

"How bad is it?" Nicole Ellis asked, sounding panicked

"It's pretty bad. I think he got shot in the artery." McGuire replied grimly.

"Fix it." Ellis commanded.

More popping of guns screeched in the radios, followed by low growling grunts, and sudden, eerie silence.

"Flag, do you read? Flag? Flag do you copy?" McGuire shouted, breathing heavily as though he were running.

The lack of response made me hold my breath as I refocused, fearing the worst.

It was quiet for a long moment, just heart thudding audibly against my ribs, and my breath seemed to get stuck in my throat. I felt Hayes's eyes on my face, but I refused to meet his gaze. Instead, I stared straight ahead, seeing nothing.

He didn't ask what I was thinking, which was out of character for him. I guessed that meant that he was just as worried as I suddenly was.

At any moment, would I snap? Turn into an angry, hate-fueled soldier?

I couldn't feel it coming on.… Maybe there was no way to anticipate such a thing.

"Boss, do you copy?" There was an urgency in the voice that wasn't far off panic. Very dangerous.

At the sound of that word all the radio traffic, which was busy, stopped. Long seconds of silence followed.

I looked to Taylor anxiously, my wide eyes pleading for an answer.


	27. Chapter 27 Break Out

"Flag? You alright?" McGuire asked again.

I turned away, feeling a rising sense of frustration and panic.

"I've been better," The Colonel finally answered. His voice weak and strained, as though he were lifting something heavier than he could manage.

I tried to smother my relief with a laugh- thr anxiousness was eased almost immediately.

"Let me see." McGuire ordered. "What the hell happened man?"

Flag panted. " _That_ happened."

There was a pause.

"Bullet hit your plate." McGuire reported.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Come on."

McGuire laughed. "Un-fuck-with-able."

This made me laugh off the worry. Laughter was a balm. It held panic at bay and it seemed to come easily. In these extreme circumstances it became unbearably funny just to act normal. If they could still laugh they were all right.

Something metallic clanged in the background.

"Mark is set." Flag confirmed.

We drove around slowly, combing the walls and windows for anything that wasn't there before.

"ETA on those rebels?" the man on the comms asked someone, it seemed he had forgotten we were listening.

"5 minutes on the Taliban. Drone is 15."

"5 minutes. They live or die because of 5 minutes, and all I can do is watch."

Whoever was on the other end, didn't sound too confident in Flag's escape plan. Or the capabilities of the rest of Alpha Team.

Noah, or whoever he was, must have been a nervous wreck by now, and because of us.

The mistakes made in Helmand weren't because the people in charge didn't care enough, or weren't smart enough. It's too easy to dismiss errors by blaming the commanders.

It assumes there exists a cadre of brilliant officers who know all the answers before the questions are even asked.

How many DEVGRU teams should there have been? One for every guard in the prison? Some of the failures deserved further study.

At risk of a cliché, how is it that a nation that could land an unmanned little go-cart on the surface of Mars, couldn't interrogate the prisoner and go on their merry way? Why did it take the Black Hawks forty minutes to arrive at our force's location when things started to go bad? Shouldn't they have been better positioned at the outset? But these are all questions that are only obvious in retrospect.

Even if you do everything right, you can still fail, even if it had been Ellis on the wire instead of the new guy who was now in a full-blown panic.

White paint ran down the stone walls of a barred window- but what I saw looked out of place. The white liquid stained the walls as it dripped down; it was fresh.

"There!" I shouted. "The window! There's the mark!"

Taylor steered the Humvee near the building, and waited for Amir and Dalton to make their move. "Don't fuck it up," he warned them.

"Copy. I'm gonna need something hollow to make the cone." Dalton ordered.

"Here." Amir handed Dalton a piece of spouting from a scrap heap. "It's hollow."

I held my rifle out the open door of the Humvee, surveying the perimeter for any rogue targets. I was ready to take anyone down if it meant Dalton could make a n escape route through the wall

"Great." Dalton wired up an explosive, and dug it into the sand, touching the wall. "Alright, we're hot."

"Move!" Flag shouted.

"Firing!" Dalton yelled as he ran back to the Humvee.

I climbed out and hunkered down behind the Humvee, using it as a barricade from the blast. Gritting myteeth, i hoped like hell the explosion wouldn't set off any unwanted memories.

Taylor and the others followed suit, some blocking their ears.

"1000," Dalton yelled. "2000, 3000, 4000"

There was a rapid beeping, and the explosive hit the wall and big chunks of it flew off in the explosion. And then, for a few instants, nothing happened.

Sand and flakes of bricks washed over us and the loud pinging of debris ricocheted off the Humvee's metal.

Five figures emerged from behind the dust, heading straight for us. One was limping, being held up by someone else.

Their progress was slow but deliberate, with no hurry, no tension, no anxiety. It was the pace of the invincible.

"That's them!" Taylor yelled, climbing back into the Humvee.

I raced toward them and grabbed the limping prisoner whose leg was dripping with blood. "Come on!" I helped him inside, and immediately organised a tourniquet.

McGuire was covered in dust, but didn't bother to shake it off as he climbed in.

Ellis sat in the front seat between Flag and Taylor.

"Keep him awake!" Ellis instructed as she looked over her shoulder at me. "Priority is the prisoner and extracting his intel. Joint US Forces will handle the prison. Do not engage."

I nodded, and set up a drip for fluids. The Humvee was rocking and swaying in the sand, making it difficult to locate a vein and insert the needle.

"Alpha one, two trucks are splitting off from the main convoy, heading to you. They must have seen the smoke." Noah said.

"Time on the drone?" Flag replied.

"Listen, Predator is 5 minutes out, but those guys are gonna close the gap fast." Noah advised, his voice was shaky.

Flag shook his head dismally. "You gotta create some space."

"That means drive faster!" I shouted at Taylor.

"I'm aware," Taylor replied, in a guff, agitated voice.

No place was safe. The air was alive with hurtling chunks of hot metal.

Two trucks with Taliban on the back were firing their guns.

We were America's elite fighters and we were going to die here, outnumbered by this determined rabble.

"With any luck, they'll think we're just a couple of scared guards."

"Never say _luck_." Flag grunted.

The prisoner's eyes were slowly closing over glazed eyes.

"Come on, stay awake," I slapped his cheek, and fed more fluid into the drip.

Hayes looked at me from beside the prisoner, gripping the hand rail. "You can do this."

"His blood pressure is dropping." I replied. "I've put an IV in."

Ellis turned in her seat and glared at the man. "This is the moment of truth. I can keep you alive, but I'm not going to. Not unless you give me the name of that base."

The man struggled to keep his eyes focussed on Ellis, but his eyes found me instead. "You won't let me die without my secret. You said that yourself, because you're the good guys, remember?" he winced in pain, and his eyes closed again.

"Wake up! Wake him up!" Ellis shouted.

"I can't!" I replied, grabbing an adrenaline shot and pulling the cap off with my teeth.

Dalton was still behind the passenger door with his rifle out the window, turned in the seat so he could line up his shots, when he was startled by a flash of light down by his legs. It looked like a laser beam shot through the door and up into his right leg. A bullet had pierced the steel of the door and the window, which was rolled down, and had poked itself and fragments of glass and steel straight up his leg from just above his knee all the way up to his hip. He had been stabbed by the shaft of light that poked through the door. He squealed.

"What's wrong, you hit?" shouted Taylor.

"Yes!" And then another laser poked through, this one into his left leg. He reached down to grab his right thigh and blood spurted out between his fingers. He didn't want to look at it.

Then Taylor shouted, "I can't see! I can't see!" The driver's helmet was askew and his glasses were knocked around sideways on his head.

"Put your glasses on, you dumb ass," Hayes said.

But Taylorhad been hit in the back of the head. The round must have hit his helmet, which saved his life, but hit with such force that it had rendered him temporarily blind.

The truck was rolling out of control and Flag, with Ellis wedged between him and Taylor, couldn't move over to grab the wheel. We couldn't stop in the field of fire, so there was nothing to do but shout directions to Taylor, who still had his hands on the wheel.

"Turn left! Turn left! Now! Now!"

"Speed up!"

"Slow down!"

The truck was weaving and banging into the sides of sand dunes.

There was the familiar whistling of a rocket sailing overhead.

"RPG! Cover!" Amir screamed, covering the prisoner's head with his arm.

"Brace!" Flag held his arm out across Ellis's chest, to stop her from being flung into the glass.

The explosion of the RPG clipped the right left fender of our Humvee. Then as we started to spin and Taylor struggled for control, another blast came from behind and rammed into the driver's side. The impact sent us careening into the air

After we were hit, I don't remember hearing anything or feeling any immediate pain, but I recall every sensation of movement that took place from the moment of impact until our Humvee came to a stop. My face was suddenly jammed between Flag's seat and the side of the roll bar. My head was jerked back.

Then I rolled over to the other side of the cab, where my rib cage hit the wheel well. Next I experienced a momentary floating sensation, a slow-motion twisting and tumbling like the dream sequence in a movie. I saw sparks and thought the Humvee was on fire. Finally, I felt a strange tingling sensation in my back. Then everything went still.

We sailed thirty feet, slammed back to the ground, rolled one and a half times, then slid on the left side down for 100 feet and stopped off the shoulder of the road.

I was surprised at how intact it all was. Everything inside that hadn't been strapped down had come to rest on the left side, which was now the bottom. Most had been thrown to the front, and was now piled up against the back of Taylor's seat.

There was a slight odour of fuel inside, and there were liquids draining from places.

Sunlight came through the wide right-side doors that now faced the sky.

I observed all this suspended upside down through the right side door. Reaching down, Hayes checked The guard's neck for a pulse. McGuire had taken the brunt of the impact, and Taylor, because his side had hit the ground, had gotten the worst of it. The whole front end of the Humvee had folded in on itself and buried the bonnet in the sand.

I was too stunned to say anything for a few seconds while my brain started to clear. When I could think again, I didn't think about the chance that I might be hurt. I couldn't feel a thing. All I could think about was my team.

"Everyone okay?" I screamed. I was answered with silence. "Status!" I knew I could hear, because I could hear my voice.

"We're okay," Flag replied finally. "Everyone get out, now!"

The explosions hadn't ceased around us as we clambered out.

Amir and Hayes had the hostage out before I could move.

We then climbed out and got down on the sand by the smashed left underside of the vehicle, digging to see if there was a chance of creating an opening underneath the wreck out of which the body could be extracted. But all the tonnage of the Humvee had ploughed hard into the sand. There was going to be no easy way to get it out.

Flag pulled Taylor out and carried him out of it. The Taylor had a deep and terrible cut across his face and he looked eerily white.

"You alright?" I shouted.

He looked at me frantically.

Ellis was shaking beside me.

"Ops, sitrap?(Situation Report)" Noah called.

"We're okay," I replied. "No serious injuries, except for the prisoner. He's still needing immediate evac. Guard is deceased."

Flag was crouched behind the body of the Humvee, blood trickling down one side of his face. "Get those rifles out!"

"Bring him to me!" Ellis yelled at McGuire, hunkered down beside Flag with her hands covering her ears.

I took the back end of the tipped over Humvee, using it as my cover. I aimed my rifle at the approaching trucks, unable to take a shot.

"Alpha one, three minutes. When the drone is in position, you are gonna have one shot to call the strike. Between relay and delivery, you have got 45 seconds till impact." Noah said.

Flag looked pissed off. "Yeah, piece of cake!"

"They gotta make some distance," Lieutenant General Blackburn hashed in. "They're on foot and that's open desert behind them."

"Drone is in position in one minute."

"They'll be fish in a barrel if they run."

"There's about to be no barrel."

Blackburn growled, exasperated. "Flag, you have got to move! You're within the blast radius!"

The noise was relentless: shooting, grenade blasts, radio calls, men shouting, crying, groaning, screaming back and forth, trying to be heard over the din, each one's need more urgent than the next man's. There was smoke and gunpowder and dust in the air. Poor Dalton was bleeding a river from his shattered right leg and bellowing with pain.

The sun had moved below its peak, and suddenly we were in the middle of a flood of bad guys. They were on their way to assault the prison outpost and we just happened to be along the route. There were a ton of them.

At first, they didn't realize we were Americans, and it was open season. Then, I saw three guys with RPGs taking aim at us from about a block away. I shot each of them in succession, saving us the hassle of ducking from their grenades.

Flag waved at us from over his shoulder. "Everybody leave! Right now! Run! Everybody out!"

We started taking fire from AK's and rocket propelled grenades. The conflict ratcheted up quickly.

RPGs began tearing holes in the loose dunes and the shell of the Humvee, breaking through it and starting fires.

We turned around and raced out into the desert. Meanwhile, insurgents were sweeping toward the crash—so close we could hear them. We cleared the wreckage about two seconds ahead of a grenade attack.

You'd hear the rounds coming past you in the air, followed closely by secondary explosions and whatever other havoc the grenades caused.

The last of Alpha Team had just cleared out of the ditch when the ground shook with a huge force: the insurgents had shot another RPG. The blast was so powerful it knocked a few of us off our feet. Ears ringing, we ran to a dune nearby. But as we were fixing to take cover behind it, all hell broke loose. We got gunfire from every direction.

I turned to look over my shoulder to be sure everyone had made it clear of the Humvee- but it was too late.

Sand and smoke had filled the air of the spot where Flag had been following behind the rest of us.

"Rick!" I shrieked, dashing back for him despite Hayes's feeble attempt to stop me.

Flag's body had been tossed in the blast, his face in the sand. Though he was intact, there was no movement.

The RPG had hit the side of what was left of the Humvee, which took the brunt of the explosion, which was good news and bad news. The explosion also took out a good chunk in the sand.

I moved quickly-I wasn't afraid of getting shot as much as I was that Flag was killed, or close to it.

The Colonel stirred slowly, lifting his head from the sand and looking around slowly before trying to push himself up off the ground. His eyes and mouth were wide open-stunned.

I slapped a new mag into my gun, then grabbed the back of his body armour and pulled him with me as I retreated. At some point as I pulled harder, one of the insurgents threw a frag. The grenade exploded somewhere nearby. Pieces of sand and rock peppered my side, from my butt cheek down to my knee. By some lucky chance, my pistol took the biggest fragment. It was pure luck—it might have put a nice hole in my leg. My butt was sore for a while, but it still seems to work well enough.

I worked my eyes around the road and the surrounding area, expecting all the while to be shot at.

The Taliban, meanwhile, poured out of their vehicles. The just kept coming, swarming all over the road.

"Stay with me, Rick!" I shouted, heaving his body toward the safety of the others.

They all had their rifles out, providing cover fire from around the sand dune.

"Punch left! Punch left!" Flag ordered, fumbling to take out his hand gun as I dragged him.

"You see them running? Do you see what's happening? There is a drone strike about to happen overhead. I am not messing with you. You are gonna die." Ellis was shouting at the prisoner, who seemed awake and terribly frightened.

"Alpha one, drone is in position. You have got to make the call right now." Blackburn shouted through the comms.

"Make the call!" I shouted at Flag, who was now scrambling to his feet.

Of course, the gunfire stoked up real loud as the words came out of my mouth.

"Noah, they're cleared hot on my position. Right now!" Flag yelled.

"They're 50 yards out. You call that strike now, they die." Noah argued.

Blackburn sighed. "He'll move. It's a tactic."

"And what if it's not?"

"Then it's better than the alternative."

I helped Flag to his feet, and took refuge behind the others, frantically checking my mag as he swore into the radio. "Damn it, tell them to fire!"

"Alpha one, bird is away. 40 seconds to impact."

"You like martyrs? You're gonna die lookin' up at this one. I will gladly die here with you, or, you can stop the cycle of violence and I will save you. It's your call." Ellis was yelling at the prisoner, looking somewhat intimidating as she towered over him.

"20 seconds." Noah reported.

"Come on, Nate." McGuire urged.

"B-Bagram. The food crates are rigged."

Ellis sighed and shouted into my ear, quicker for Tac to hear. "Bagram, Food crates are rigged!"

"They're rigged, let's go, let's go!" I shouted, pushing Flag to lunge him forward.

"Get down!" sounded several voices together. The men, Hayes, Taylor, Amir, and Dalton, all flopped to the sand and rolled as fast as they could. Ellis copied them, but more concerned with how hard her landing was.

McGuire reached back to grab Nate and pull him away, and the explosion ripped the prisoner from his hands.

When it blew, I felt myself driven hard into Flag's back plate armour and felt a flash of heat and light behind me. We were in just the right spot. The force of the explosion passed over us. I felt the shock and heat of it, and tasted its bitter chemical ignition, but in the frantic instants after the blast I moved my arms and legs and saw that I hadn't been hurt.

The rest of the guys could not have been so lucky. The prisoner, for sure, was dead.

My body landed over Flag's back, shielding him from the blast, holding my arms over his head protectively. I sat up hesitantly, before the smoke had cleared.

"Flag, status?" The comms rattled. "Ellis? LTC? Anyone, report status."


	28. Chapter 28 Pattern of life

Through the dust and debris, there were coughs and moans.

"Status is whole, healthy, and delivered like a sinner on Sunday." Taylor replied into the radio.

 _WASHINGTON_

I left the compound and made my way outside where were was no lights, no voices. Just darkness and silence.

My life had changed in so many ways since I was a teenager and so suddenly, that I had no time to think about what had happened, let alone make plans on how to deal with it all.

Years of training and proving myself to get to where I was. But was it enough? Another ladder to climb. But it would never change the past, or bring Kowalski back from the grave.

I missed him incredibly.

I drew in a breath of crisp air, and looked up at the thick clouds that blanketed the base.

It was deceptively calm where I stood, staying clear of the damage Alpha Dogs were creating in the bar as they celebrated a well-earned victory.

Gunfire resounded in my thoughts as if there was a war raging.

I was fighting my own war too. A monster inside my head that wasn't me. It seemed increasingly difficult to tune out and turn off after a day like yesterday.

I could have killed hundreds of men and walk away with little remorse. I felt nothing but anger and sadness. Lonely at the worst of times.

The guys in the force would think I had gotten soft over the duration of my assignment to Alpha Dogs if I tried to talk to them or even make friends. I wasn't here for that.

I was a monster who wanted to control and destroy anyone who got in my way. I didn't believe I could control it.

I continued to gaze up at the sky, lost in thought.

"Hey," A voice said, interrupting my reverie.

I spun around and pointed my glock at him in alarm.

"Whoa- Jaz, it's just me." Flag raised his hands in surrender as he continued his approach.

"Sorry," I shook the haze from my mind and put my pistol back in its holster, but he grabbed it before it clicked in.

"We're in DC, you don't need this." He was watching me warily as he slowly uncurled my fingers from around the gun. My pistol went into Flag's belt behind his back, and his arms enveloped me; carefully, I noticed.

"Of course," I laughed humourlessly. "I forgot. Habit, you know. This seemed like a time out. I figured I'd grab a few minutes while I could."

He glanced in the direction of the violence at the bar, which seemed to have abated for the moment.

"You've gone to hell and back. I get it. You saved my ass back there."

"You were hit in the body armour," I reminded him sarcastically,

Flag scoffed. "Yeah, and I couldn't move after the impact, I was almost out cold and you came back for me. You saved my life."

"You would have done the same for me. Oh, wait, you did." I laughed.

"I guess we're even."

I nodded in agreement. "It feels like this is all a dream. Being away for so long, and then suddenly back at it like I was never gone. Ellis was scared shitless in that prison."

"Honestly, if you think there is some kind of script for being the commander, you know it doesn't exist. I wasn't going to slap her and tell her to snap out of it, she isn't like us. She has limited field experience, and being shot at ain't one of 'em. I was my job to keep everyone calm and exfilled. I wing it."

I remained silent, confounded by him. Inexplicably, I felt something when I looked at him. He was talking to me, but I wasn't sure if he cared if I listened. Flag was just a man. Talking to me. Not Military man of authority. Just another solider seeking a break.

But he wasn't my _best_ friend the way that Kowalski was. Aside from the impossible love I felt for Flag, there was also that other bond, and it ran bone deep.

"I'm sorry I made you anxious before," I muttered. "I just needed to wind down and I wasn't there yet."

He sighed, and relaxed a little.

" _Anxious_ is a bit of an understatement," he murmured. "It was a very long day."

We stared into the darkness in silence.

"I wanted to thank you, for coming back. I wasn't sure you would, after Tehran. You've been different since then, I want you to talk to me about it. Debrief doesn't make any sense." he said.

"This walk is better than I thought it would be," I said, changing the subject. "I know what today is. The 26th."

"I didn't want to say anything." He murmured.

"Why not? Because it's me?"

His arms tightened around me, cradling me to his chest.

Flag was silent for a moment, and then he sighed. "Because it _is_ you. Because I care. Our lives are hard enough without me pulling you down with me."

I narrowed my eyes at him, pulling away from him to look into his eyes. "Is it not the whole point of being with someone to not go through this alone? I don't want you to decide what I can and can't know about you. I'm all in." I paused, waiting for a reaction. Instead, Flag was hesitant as he looked down at me. He was so tall, it hurt my neck to look up at him for too long. "And I promise to fully burden you with all my issues too."

Flag laughed. "You promise t _hat_?"

I giggled. "Yes."

He laughed aloud as if I'd just told a good joke.

"What's so funny?"

"You changed the subject." He paused, but shifted to look down at me again.

I ignored this reaction, and looked into the darkness.

"Okay, How about telling me what happened in Urkraine? And don't say nothing. That helo spooked you."

My pulse was thudding in my ears. I put one hand over my heart. It drummed hyperactively under my palm. "Do you think I'll ever get better at this?" I wondered, mostly to myself. "That my heart might someday stop trying to jump out of my chest whenever you figure me out?"

"I really hope not," he said, a bit smug. "Tell me. Please? I know something is on your mind."

I stared for another minute, shocked. I could feel something, panic maybe, building up in my chest. I wrapped my arms around Flag's waist, and leaned my head against his chest, holding on as though the world were spinning on its axis. Something was very wrong, maybe more wrong than I'd realized.

"Is there really no limit to how bad things can get?"

Flag hummed. "No." he took in a sharp breath. "Is this Kowalski? Or Tehran?"

"I don't know," I moaned. "Maybe all of it?"

"Does it help if I tell you how good you are?"

I grinned, and I think Flag felt my cheek bulge against his chest, because a rumble in his chest replied.

"Okay, I know an incredible woman named Jaz Chapman, who will clear a small town suspected of being hostile; building after building. She can shoot a round through a fleas ass at 300 meters, first to fight, and can do more with less." He chuckled, then sighed. "I can't take the nightmares away, but _you_ need to know that it's okay to do what I tell you to do. It's your job, and you're only killing the bad guys. Sure, there's collateral damage from time to time, but we live with it. Oh, and while I'm at it, give Amir a break. He likes you, and wants to make it work."

I instantly regretted the decision to open my mouth. Flag was going to be furious…

"Okay," I felt myself hesitate.

 _Stop holding back,_ I told the coward inside me. _Just do it, he's waited long enough. Flag always wins…_

"I was chained to a chair in a white room for two weeks. I was tortured over and over again." _There_. I said it. I didn't tell anyone the details, not even in debrief. But of course Flag would have wanted to ask what the injuries were caused by since I didn't include the full extent of the events in that chamber.

"They made me believe Hayes was dead, and that my team had disowned me. The pain... And after Midway City, I get nightmares about that witch. She was nothing I had ever seen. I guess it all gets a bit much sometimes, even for me."

Flag's arms flexed around me.

"But I didn't write everything in debrief like I was supposed to. The stab wounds were from hot knives," I finally let out a slow uneven breath, blinking away the bead of water brimming over my eyes.

"What?" he gasped. "What did you say?"

My heart thudded audibly against my ribs, and my breath seemed to get stuck in my throat. I felt his eyes on my face, but I refused to meet his gaze. I stared straight

ahead, seeing nothing.

He didn't ask again, so I guessed that meant that he was just as troubled as I suddenly was.

"What else?" Flag snarled between his teeth.

I was stuck between heaven and earth. My hunch was true, and I definitely wasn't dreaming. Sounds like a slow painful death is inevitable. If this was the cruel end I get for being a soldier then so be it; but not if Flag has to watch me go crazy because of it.

"They put a gun to my head first… I couldn't hear for so long and-" the air hitched in my throat. I was suddenly more emotional than I was five minutes ago. My life had taken another huge turn. "I'm sorry…"

Falling down into a deep abyss, and I couldn't stop it now. Turning around upside down in all my confusion. Would I survive?

I searched my mind for an explanation. But there was nothing. Just the blankness filling my heart as I imagined Flag, a broken man taking on the evil in Tehran by himself…

He was so silent I didn't notice he had clenched his fists. He looked at me, his eyes grave.

He knew what I was thinking. I could see my emotions reflect back to me through the solemn expression on his face.

I'd seen him angry, and I'd seen him arrogant, and once I'd seen him in pain. But this— this was beyond agony. His eyes were half-crazed. He didn't look down to glare at me anymore. He stared at the flickering compound lights with an expression like someone had lit him on fire. His hands were rigid claws at his side.

I tried to comprehend, through the film of tears blinding me, the surreal fact that Flag would never look at me the same again. I looked up at him from inside my own personal hell, I could see he was as upset as I was, maybe more.

He finally met my stare for a moment and his face was frenzied under a thin layer of control.

"I can't stand to see you like this. Why didn't you tell me? Do you think I was going to bench you even after you were squared away? Because I wouldn't. I know you would die inside if I did that to you."

I did know this-every second I spent talking about it was only going to add to the pain I would have to suffer later. Like a junkie with a limited supply, the day of reckoning was coming for me. The more hits I took now, the harder it would be when my supply ran out.

If he hadn't looked so angry I would've been screaming.

"Jaz, I'm sorry. I don't think you care right now, but we did everything we could to keep you alive, and we're glad you are. If you need a break-"

"No!" I almost shouted, releasing myself from his arms. "No, I don't want that. I just need to keep busy."

Flag put one hand on my rib, on the scar the knife left behind. "But you'll tell me if you need to." The heat from his skin burned right through the thin cotton shirt as he pulled me closer.

He made no effort to pull me in; he just hugged me while I buried my face in his chest. He leaned down to press his cheek to the top of my head.

"It's just me, Jaz." He pulled back a little bit and straightened up. He left one hand on the small of my back and grabbed my right hand with the other. He cradled our hands to his chest; I could feel his heart beat under my palm, and I guessed that he hadn't placed my hand there accidentally. "What doesn't kill you, better start fucking running."

I laughed awkwardly.

"Please, move in with me. It'll be so much easier."

"But Blackburn will find out about us if we have the same address." I sniffed.

"Don't worry about that. I have a feeling Hayes told on us already."

I heart sank. "W-what?"

Flag laughed. "Nothing to be concerned about."

"But it's fraternizing, I'll be put into another unit or discharged-"

"Let's not worry about that. Am I the Colonel? I got my own strings to pull."

I breathed slowly, unconvinced. "Excuse me if it doesn't fill my pockets with confetti."

"Honestly, let me take care of it. But for now, I want to make you feel better."

"The only way I feel better is having you around. The others have no idea what it's like. None of them know what's like to be held hostage and all the world forced against you while you rot. It's like trying to cling to nothing while you drown." I could feel myself descending into the darkness like a stampede, charging straight for it. Descending into the madness.

"Are we talking about your diet and exercise next?" he laughed.

"Hah, hah," I mocked.

He hummed and began to sway, forcing me to dance to the music only he could hear. "You still haven't answered my questions."

I sighed, but I was seriously ungrateful to whatever malfunction it was that kept Flag from figuring out that I had a secret. It was probably driving him crazy; Rick Flag hated secrets, unless he was in on them. How unfair for him to be the only one who knows my darkest memories.

It was hard to talk about my issues with anyone but Flag—we were so much alike, always reverting to trivial things to avoid embarrassing emotional displays. But this was no time for being self-conscious.

So many different kinds of love, harmonious in this one moment. It seemed a very hopeful picture to me.

"You know my mother died when I was very young, she was a victim of the bus bombing in New York. After she died, my father moved our family to Sonoma, and then he became a hateful recluse. I haven't seen him since I enlisted. And Andy was the first one to join the force. I thought, by some small miracle, I would have revenge, find out who was responsible for taking my mother away. But it was all forgotten along the way. This is my life now, and since Kowalski died…" I choked, but Flag didn't stop swaying, just breathing in and out slowly. "Since he died, something in me died too. But you helped me get back on my feet and carry on. I can't do this without you." I tried to sneak my eyes up at him, but he was already watching me, grinning my favourite crooked smile. "And I know you're doing it on purpose."

He laughed.

"So yes. I will move in. On one condition."

"Anything." He whispered and pulled me tighter into his chest. It wasn't exactly as comfortable as a sofa cushion would be, what with his chest being hard. But it was reassuring.

"We have to sort out this Hayes/Blackburn mess. I don't think I can survive if I'm kicked out of Alpha Dogs. I hate that Hayes is so eager to mess with us. He's trying to ruin my career for choosing you over him or something?"

"Listen, there's no way you will be decommissioned. The worst that can happen is that I were taken off Commanding Officer. It's my fault, really."

"No," I almost shouted. "It's fifty-fifty. We're in it together. So, we deal with it together."

*.*.*.*.

I was trying to postpone bedtime; I dreaded the nightmares that were sure to follow. But instead, I fell increasingly tired each day. I still woke up shaking like a leaf and clammy. The nightmares were a constant noise.

My last night in the barrack bunks. My last night as Lieutenant Colonel Jaz Chapman. Tomorrow night, I would be in a comfortable bed the size of Washington. Though the whole moving in ordeal was a thorn in my side, I had to admit that I liked the sound of it.

I let my mind wander idly for a moment, expecting sleep to take me. But, after a few minutes, I found myself more alert, anxiety creeping back into my stomach, twisting it into uncomfortable positions. The bed seemed too hard, too cold.

It was going to be a very long day tomorrow.

I was aware that most of my fears were stupid—I just had to get over myself. Trouble was an inevitable part of life. I couldn't always blend in with the scenery. However, I did have a few specific worries that were completely valid.

Both of our careers were on the line, over something so trivial. We both knew it was against the rules, but we were drawn to each other anyway.

And Hayes-going out of his way to throw us in the deep end. Revenge, perhaps?

I felt horribly guilty for that. A truce with the Lieutenant General was a small price to make up some of that debt, a price we were prepared to pay.

That was the big problem, but there was a small problem, too: my fragile self-esteem.

I'd never been in any kind of trouble with the chain of command but I was sure that meeting with him wouldn't be a pleasant experience for my ego.

"I'm worried." I said as we reached the commanding officers' building.

"Nothing to worry about, I've worked with him for a _very_ long time," Flag assured me with a grin.

It felt like I'd barely fallen asleep when he woke me. I was groggy as he pulled me through the offices struggling to remember how to open my eyes after every blink. It took me a few minutes to catch up with what was going on when we stopped at Blackburn's door.

Across from the hall, was the exact same wood panel door, except the name plaque read Colonel Richard Flag Jnr. I raised one eyebrow, surprised he even had an office at all. Most of the time he was sprawled out in the common room of Alpha barracks with his folders and an entire tree's worth of paperwork.

Flag knocked on the door gently and poked his head in the door. "You free, Eric?"

"Sure, come on in," Blackburn piped, with the sound of drawers closing shortly after.

Flag went inside, and closed the door behind us as I stood against the wall, not daring to go any closer to Blackburn's desk. I saluted as he looked up at us.

His wide-set eyes frowned as they flicked from Flag, then to me and back again.

"At ease," he mumbled, looking down at his computer. "How can I help?" he sighed, realising it wasn't a social call from the Colonel.

Flag took a seat at the desk casually, rubbing his mouth with his fingers as he watched Blackburn fumble around on his laptop. "Something we need to discuss. Hayes has already explained, I'm sure."

Eric Blackburn looked up from the screen, and examined our faces carefully. His eyes tightened. "What's your side of the story, Rick? The truth—don't try to downplay it."

I swallowed hard. "It's a long story,"

He looked up at me swiftly, hearing the double edge in my words. "Hayes told me a long story. Besides, I'm not in any hurry to get back," he said, and then I grimaced as I thought of the trouble I would be in.

"Start at the beginning," Blackburn suggested.

"After the Afghanistan op for Ghani." Flag said sharply. "When Chapman came out of hospital she was struggling with the death of her team mate, Kowalski."

I swallowed hard again, feeling a giant lump forming in my throat.

"We became close, after that. Uh, having gone through similar situations and all, we became close friends. I can't help that, Eric. I mean, have you ever met someone and you just _can't_ stay away? Even if we are tied together in a team environment, I found it hard to keep it professional. First time a female joins Top Tier and we expect fraternizing to occur, right? Remember, we discussed this before choosing Green Team grads-only I didn't expect to be the one involved. Remember what I said about that? As long as there's no compromise in performance on and off the field."

Blackburn sniffed, not taking his serious eyes from Flag, except to glance at me quickly, regaling in Flag's story.

"We can't help what dynamics happen within the team, disagreements, fidelities, it comes with the job. You of all people know how it works. We know what we are doing, on and off the field.."

Blackburn was silent. That was a bad sign. He didn't plan on having this conversation.

I shook my head and took a deep breath, trying to locate some courage.

"Sir, may I speak freely?"

Eric nodded.

My eyes flashed to Flag's face for approval. Despite Blackburn's hidden politeness, I didn't believe I really had a choice. I was horrified at the thought of allowing him to demote both of us, and yet also perversely intrigued by the chance to change his mind.

Flag nodded in encouragement–whether because he was sure Blackburn would listen, or because there was no choice, I couldn't tell.

"If it weren't for Flag I wouldn't have had the nerve to continue my position without some sort mental damage. He has kept me square away, and for that I am forever grateful. I have learned a lot from the Colonel during my time here, and there is always more. I'm not sure I can operate effectively without his guidance, sir."

"So this has been going on for quite some time?" he asked in an unemotional voice,

"Sir," I stood up straight behind Flag's chair. "I understand we should have come clean earlier. Neither of us had any idea we would get this serious."

"Well, I have done some investigating of my own, and what Hayes told me stacks up. After your ARGUS campaign, you both took leave offered to you. You also came back the same day. It found it strange that you," he turned to Flag sitting stiffly. "Seemed to have a sudden attitude adjustment after Chapman took over as CO in Syria. Not to mention the sudden end to your sabbatical while Alpha were in Iran, you went rogue. That's a total of a year in secrecy, Colonel." Blackburn's eyes narrowed and he glared back and forth between the two of us. "In all seriousness, I know all about it. Hayes told me the same story, just without quite as many details."

"Huh," Flag said under his breath.

"Hayes gave me the impression that Chapman's new rank was out of favouritism, but after reading debrief, it seemed like a logical decision from you, Rick. But, I slept on the information and I believe you two are quite the dynamic duo, and that runs DEVGRU's favour. As well as the choice to keep Chapman off the field despite her... _eagerness_. However,"

I took a deep breath through my nose.

Here it comes, the final judgement, and the consequences that went with it.

"Eric, stop acting like you're not gonna pass this up. You want Jaz and I on different teams or do we need to make more of an impression? Our relationship hasn't made any negative impact on DEVGRU at all, or you would've have picked it up already." Flag interrupted, his voice saturated with innocent surprise.

I could easily hear the sharp huff as the Lieutenant General exhaled. The blood rushed into my face, fuelled by irritation and chagrin. Why was Flag doing this? I glared at the bubbles in the linoleum patterns of the floor, panicking.

"Wait a minute. You want me to choose between protocol and success of Alpha Team? You're not in a position to any demands, Rick." Blackburn asked in a hard voice. "Performance isn't an issue at all. How are lovers meant to keep focussed on any op, when their counterpart is potentially in harms way?" Blackburn looked at me intensely, with some kind of hidden meaning. "Having two operators in…. cahoots can implicate further missions. It may have worked out in Tehran, it may not next time."

 _Next time?_ My glare turned icy. "If that's how you want it. Do you want me to clear out tonight? Or can I have a few days to pack up?"

Blackburn's face went bright red.

I instantly felt horrible for playing the move-out card. I took a deep breath and tried to make my tone more reasonable. "I'll do my time without complaining when I've done something wrong, but I'm not going to put up with your prejudices."

He sputtered, but managed nothing coherent.

Flag flinched at the threat implicit in my outburst.

"I haven't passed anything on the chain of command. In fact, I was going to let the entire thing slide, since Colonel seems to have the entire situation under control. I have only great things to say about the both of you, _and_ Alpha Team."

"Alpha Dogs," Flag corrected brusquely.

"You wanna hear this or not?" Blackburn breathed.

Flag shrugged nonchalantly.

"Rick, I've known you a lot of years. And I did notice a shift in you since Chapman's addition to your team. You were borderline suicidal, to tell you the truth. But you got the job done, regardless. I actually decided you weren't going to return from an op one day."

"It isn't as if you hadn't thought the first decision through, is it?" Flag guessed.

"You'll end up doing what you think is right." Blackburn replied curtly.

"I'm not as strong as you give me credit for," he said. "Right and wrong had ceased to mean much to me; I was coming back anyway. Before Jaz joined us, I was already past trying to live through one week at a time, or even one day. I was fighting to make it through a single hour. It was only a matter of time–and not much of it–before Jaz changed everything for me. _She_ is the reason I am still here. So punish us, but don't separate us. Results are better as a team. Jaz thinks like I do, and it works every time. Syria, for example."

Eric cleared his throat and clasped his hands together over his desk as he looked at the two of us. "The pair of you are _the_ President's most valuable asset. Every op you succeed, and results are more than satisfactory. In fact Chapman, your leadership and diligence in Syria saved a lot of lives. You know the rules, and made the best possible call to achieve the objective as well as saving those innocent civilians. You think outside the box, and I need your skill on the front line. Rick, you know your position here. You train the best soldiers, keep them in line. Which brings me to the next part of this conversation." He sniffed and scanned our faces for reactions.

I certainly didn't give him one.

Satisfied I wasn't going to object, he continued. "The General wanted me to discuss your career, Chapman." He turned to look up at me, and I gulped. "Bravo is in need of assembly, now that the newest recruits have some field experience, I wanted to leave the adjustment of CO's to Rick's discretion. But after our conversation just now, I know now that it won't be easy for that to happen. So I'm making the call. Chapman, you are to begin your CO exam in preparation for the position. I am counting on you to lead Team Alpha while Rick breaks in the new unit. It will be that way, until I see fit."

I let out a sigh in protest, but he ignored me. "Great, another soup sandwich," I replied in a mumble.

"As for the consequences of your unethical relationship, I have the perfect punishment." Blackburn sniffed, and tapped the keys on his laptop. Then looked back at us, leaning back in his chair. "You're both assigned by the Secretary of Defence. A.R.G.U.S needs Alpha Team back on the job _again_."

My mouth fell open and my breath blew out in a sharp gust.

"Dismissed." Blackburn ordered, ushering us toward the door, making his word even more final.

His door slammed behind us as we left.

Flag put his arm tight around my waist, holding me close. That was the only thing that held the tears inside my eyes.

We had some serious problems.

Our lives had been turned up-side down once again at the prospect of another world-changing danger.

If I didn't become a Commanding Officer soon, the Chain of Command would demote me.

And now it seemed that if I _did_ , the life as I know it would different. But I would try to do the job .I didn't think I had any chance really.

Very serious problems. So why did they all suddenly seem insignificant when we broke through the last door and I caught sight of the expression on Flag's discouraged face?

He squeezed me gently. "I didn't expect you to walk out with a promotion, LTC. You're still here. And me, too."

I drew in a deep breath.

That was true. Flag was here, with his arms around me.

I could face anything as long as that was true.

I squared my shoulders and walked forward to meet my fate, with my destiny solidly at my side.

"Hey!" Flag shouted, making me jump. "You!"

I looked around, confused.

That was when I saw him. He would have been hard to miss, towering over the other soldiers the way he did, even if he hadn't been leaning against his black motorcycle, parked rudely on the sidewalk.

"Oh."

Hayes's face was a calm mask that I recognized well. It was the face he used when he was determined to keep his emotions in check, to keep himself under control. It made him look like Taylor. But Hayes could never quite manage the perfect serenity Taylor always exuded.

I'd forgotten how much this face bothered me. Though I'd gotten to know Hayes pretty well- to like him, even - I'd never been able to completely shake the resentment I felt when Hayes mimicked Taylor's expression. It was a stranger's face.

He wasn't Danny when he wore it.

"You jumped to the wrong conclusion as always," Flag murmured.

So I'd misinterpreted Hayes's motives last night. Missing information, that was the problem.

Information like why in the world Hayes would want to talk to Flag.

I groaned quietly.

Hayes's face hardened as we walked toward him.

I noticed other faces, too - the faces of Delta and Green Team. I noticed how their eyes widened as they took in all five foot eight inches of Hayes's long body, muscled up the way no normal forty two-and-a-half-year-old ever had been.

I saw those eyes rake over his tight black t-shirt - short-sleeved, though the day was unseasonably cool - his ragged, grease-smeared jeans, and the glossy black bike he leaned against.  
Their eyes didn't linger on his face - something about his expression had them glancing quickly away. And I noticed the wide berth everyone gave him, the bubble of space that no one dared to encroach on.

With a sense of astonishment, I realized that Hayes looked _dangerous_ to them.

How odd.

Flag stopped a few yards away from Hayes, and I could tell that he was uncomfortable having me so close to another fight between them. He drew his arm back slightly, pushing me halfway behind his body.

"You could have called me," Flag said in a steel-hard voice.

"Sorry," Hayes answered, his face twisting into a sneer. "I don't have Chair Force on my speed dial."

"I'm not going to be stuck at a desk."

Hayes's jaw flexed, and his brows pulled together. He didn't answer.

"This is hardly the place, Hayes. Could we discuss this later?"

"Sure, sure. I'll stop by your office after training." Hayes snorted. "What's wrong with now?"

Flag looked around pointedly, his eyes resting on the witnesses who were just barely out of hearing range.  
A few people were hesitating on the sidewalk, their eyes bright with expectation.

Like they were hoping a fight might break out to alleviate the tedium of another Monday morning.  
I saw Chris Frost nudge Brock Ryan, and they both paused on their way to training.  
Two nurses were sitting in a bench seat near the office we had just left, staring.

"I already know what you came to say," Flag reminded Hayes in voice so low that _I_ could barely make it out. "Message delivered. Consider us warned."

Hayes was staring at us with incredulous eyes. "You didn't get your ass chewed?"

I glared at him, and he smiled back impishly - like a kid caught doing something he knows he shouldn't by someone who he knows won't punish him.

"Truce over," he added, so low I couldn't be sure that was really what he'd said. "I'm going to rip your spine out, I swear to God." He snarled at Flag.

"You're going to do as you're told." I snapped.

Hayes scoffed. "Because the rules don't apply to you, huh?"

"Don't do this here," I argued.

"LTC, could I please speak to you alone?" Hayes asked swiftly.

"You're about to make my life harder than it needs to be, Lieutenant," Flag warned him through his teeth. "I'd really rather you didn't."

"This isn't about you, Richard," he shot back.

Flag laughed. Something about his response was funny to him.

"It's not," Hayes insisted. "This is a private thing."

He frowned.

"Let him talk to me," I told him. I was curious.

"You asked for it," Flag muttered to Hayes before he laughed again - half angry, half amused - and strode out toward the common room.

I turned to Hayes, worried now, but he didn't look at me. His bad mood hadn't passed yet.

He went to sit on the seat of his bike, his face dejected.

"What is it?"

"What did Blackburn say?"

"Why are you suddenly concerned about that? You're the one who told on us."

He stared at me with pleading eyes, his long blond eyebrows slanting up in the middle and pulling together, his lips trembling at the corners. It was a heart-breaking expression.

"Fine. I'm Alpha's new CO, and Flag will be breaking in a new Bravo Team. But we've been sent on a wild goose chase first."

Hayes nodded slowly, looking around at the faces that turned away, uninterested.

I lowered my voice, cautious. "We're back on A.R. ."

"Wait- you're not mad at me? I set out to get Flag off DEVGRU, and you're more worried about A.R.G.U.S?" Hayes was abruptly in a rage, shouting the words.

I groaned. "I'd rather face Waller alone."

"I don't get you! You're just as bad as Flag, you know that? Are you going to marry him next?"

This was to be expected. I'd encountered it before, wherever Rick Flag appeared in the equation.

I came off the rail, letting just enough anger bleed through. "Don't fuck with me, Hayes. Like it or not, you took a big bite of something that didn't concern you, and now you're going to either chew it or spit it out. Which is it going to be?"

Only the breeze between us moved, but the cautious murmuring of two camouflaged men broke the silence.

I turned sharply, and headed toward the barracks.

Hayes ignored me. "You shouldn't be with him!" he yelled.

I spun around and he was jabbing a finger at me.

Anger pulsed through me automatically, an instinctive reaction to his tone.

With measured anger, I backhanded him hard across the mouth. He collapsed sideways against the path, losing his hat. The conversation of the young men in desert fatigues stopped abruptly, then resumed with great animation as I cut them a sideways glance. The two female nurses got stiffly to their feet and filed out through the front entrance.

"What happens with Flag and I, is none of your business, we've had this conversation before. The government don't pay me enough to put up with you either."

Hayes sat back up, wiping at the blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. To his credit, he managed a bitter smile with the undamaged portion of his lips.

"You think I haven't been threatened before?"

I examined the hand I'd hit him with. "I think you've had very little experience of personal violence, and that's going to be a disadvantage. I'm going to give you the chance to shut the fuck up and get on with your job."

"You're a monster, Trig . Nothing but—"

I snapped folded knuckles into his left eye. It made less noise than the slap.

Hayes grunted in shock and reeled away from the blow, cowering into the seat the nurses has abandoned. I watched impassively until he recovered.

Something cold was rising in me, something born on the white chair of Tehran and tempered with the years of pointless unpleasantness I had been witness to.

I hoped Hayes wasn't as tough as he was trying to appear, for both our sakes. I leaned close again. "You said it, Hayes. I'm a monster."

"What's going on here?" The man's voice was low and confused, pitched a little loud to carry from the door where he stood, hands in the pockets of a long black coat. I recognised the face- Captain Zander Martin.

"DEVGRU problem solving," I replied, wiping my knuckles on my shirt as Hayes scrambled to his feet.

The young men in uniform watched his every step of Zander's way toward us, but if he was aware of their gazes, he gave no sign. When he was about five paces from us, he gave me a look of inquiry. "Lieutenant Colonel Chapman, is everything okay here?"

Hayes scoffed, cupping both hands to his eye. "Knuckle-dragger has lost her mind, sir."

"What's it about?"

"I don't know," Hayes blurted.

"Now why you got socked in the face, twice." said Zander disinterestedly. He hadn't even turned to look at him. "Lucky for you I turned up, I'd say. Chapman doesn't look like someone ready to take _don't know_ for an answer. Am I right?"

"What do you want, Zander?" I asked impatiently.

"Come to help out."

Hayes huffed. "This has nothing to do with you, Captain."

"It seems you _don't know_ your CO when you're looking at her. I wanted to check your boss over before deployment."

"That's too bad," I said coyly. "You want to tell me who sent you this time?"

"Hey, better than that. You're invited to meet the woman." He nodded at my expression. "Yeah, Waller wants to talk to you and Flag. Same as last time, except this isn't a voluntary ride. Seems coercion doesn't work too well with you."

"And Blackburn? He in on this as well?"

Zander drew breath in through his teeth. "Blackburn's, well, Eric's a bit of a side issue right now. Bit of an embarrassment really. But I think we can deal on that as well. I really can't tell you too much more now." He shuttled his glance sideways at Hayes, who was beginning to stand up straight and pay attention.

"It's better if we go someplace else."

"All right." I nodded. "I'll follow you out. But let's have a couple of ground rules before we go. One, no secrets."

"Way ahead of you there." Zander replied. "My instructions are to convey you directly to Waller. In the flesh."

I put a hand on his arm and he stopped moving abruptly. "Two. No surprises. You tell me exactly what's going to happen well before it does. Anything unexpected, and you're likely to be disappointing your boss all over again."

"Fine. No surprises." Zander produced a slightly forced smile that told me he wasn't accustomed to being grabbed by the arm. "We're going to walk out of the base and catch a taxi. That all right by you?"

"Just so long as it's empty." I released his arm and he resumed motion, hands still well away from his sides.

I looked over my shoulder at Hayes. "You stay here. If I see your face come through the gate before we're gone, I'll put a hole in it."

As I followed Zander to the gate, Flag arrived with a clean shirt and jacket, but this time, he carried his high concealment belt and his pistol.

Zander practically tripped over himself trying to stay out of my way, and the look he gave me was mingled disgust and awe. In the wake of the icy fury that had possessed me earlier, I sympathised more than he could have known.

The young men in fatigues watched us go with the dead-eyed concentration of snakes.

Outside the gate, it was beginning to rain. I turned up my collar and watched as Zander spotted a passing taxi, and waved his hand casually back and forth above his head.

"Be a minute," he said, and gave me a curious sidelong glance. "You got a short fuse?"

"Nope."

Flag chuckled.

He shook his head. "Hell of a place for a conflict. Or do you just like living dangerously?"

I shrugged. "Where I come from, soldiers stay out of other people's fights. They're a gutless lot, generally. Much more likely to get interference from a solid citizen."

"Not around here. Most solid citizens around here are a little too solid to get involved in a brawl on some stranger's behalf. The way they figure it, that's what the police are for. Maybe it's that Alpha thing, then. You reckon?"

"Maybe."

A cab came spiraling down through the rain in response to Zanders beacon.

Zander stood aside at the open door and made an irony of demonstrating the empty compartment within.

I smiled thinly. "After you."

"Suit yourself." He climbed aboard and moved over to let me in. I settled back on the seat beside him and Flag slid in after me.

"Good morning," said the cab driver smoothly. "Destination?"

"Airport," said Zander, lounging back in his seat and looking for my reaction. "Private carriers' terminal."

The cab took off.

I looked past Zander at the rain on the window. "Not a local trip, then," I said tonelessly.

He brought his arms in again, hands held palm upward. "Well, we figured you wouldn't want Waller on base, so we have to do it the hard way. Take about three hours."

"Wasting time, much?" I drew a deep breath and saw Flag touch his bolstered pistol lightly.

"You know, I'm going to get really upset if someone asks me to check this hardware before we fly." Flag grunted

"Yeah, we figured that too. Relax Colonel, you heard me say private terminal. This is a custom flight, just for you. Carry a fucking tactical nuke on board if you like. Okay?"

"Where are we going, Zander?" Flag sighed.

He smiled.

"Belle Reve."

 _TO BE CONTINUED…_

 **Thanks for reading! Stay tuned for the next one, with more focus on the Suicide Squad :) please leave a review, I'd like to know what you would like to read in the new adventure.**

 **HERE IS A LINK TO THE NEXT INSTALLMENT. Enjoy xx**

s/13176123/1/Soldiers-of-Alpha-Redeployed


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